The Demigod and the Damned
by Rufus T. Serenity
Summary: After a chance encounter in Austin, Texas while heading to save Artemis and Annabeth, Percy Jackson encounters Colby Stevens, a mortal man with magical power who might play as big as role in determining the course of the war between the Olympians and the Titans as him. Crossover between Percy Jackson and the books "Dreams and Shadows" and "The Queen of the Dark Things."
1. Redheaded Horrors

**Hello everyone! As you already can guess, my penname is Rufus T. Serenity and I have a Percy Jackson story for you all today! Despite the fact that I've been writing fan-fiction for four or so years by this point, this is my first time writing for the Percy Jackson fandom.** **As a result, I would greatly appreciate it if you would leave me a review telling what you thought I did well and what needs to be approved.**

 **Now then, let me explain what this story is. This story is a crossover between the "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series and the two urban fantasy novels "Dreams and Shadows" and "The Queen of the Dark Things" by C. Robert Cargill. The basic plot is this: After a chance encounter in Austin, Texas while heading to California to save Artemis and Annabeth, Percy Jackson encounters Colby Stevenson, a mortal man with insane magical power who might play as big as role in determining the course of the war between the Olympians and the Titans as him. The two heroes along with their friends and allies will have to work together, overcome their personal flaws, figure out how to work together despite quite different views of the world and the supernatural, and defeat many opponents. They will face off against monsters, titans, witches, and a force greater than any of those!**

 **Since I'm going to assume that most of the people reading this are already familiar with the Percy Jackson series but not Cargill's books, I'll briefly explain the later but not the former. Cargill's books take place in a world that is pretty much our own except that the supernatural interacts with humanity in various ways that most people aren't aware of. The supernatural creatures live in isolated pocket of magical wilderness far away from the modern world, though many of the paranormal beings often go to the cities and other non-magical places of the earth. The mythical creatures featured mainly are of medieval European and Native American origin, although there are also pretty prominent examples of ancient Arabic and Australian mythology too. Aside from that, the most important thing to point out is that the creatures and world of Cargill's books are much darker than those of the Percy Jackson series. They are usually more savage, more tragic, and more unsettling. Despite that, for some strange reason, these books and the Percy Jackson books feel very similar to me. Both series have good characters, a riveting story, a complex backstory rooted in ancient mythology, and twenty-first century narration that is wry and witty. In fact, one friend of mine who LOVES the Percy Jackson series and has started reading "Dreams and Shadows" calls it, "Percy Jackson but for adults."**

 **That actually leads me to my next point. Despite this chapter being rated T, the next one will be rated M. Why this chapter is rated T is because I don't there is anything too bad in this one (with one or two possible exceptions) and I want some people to see this story because it becomes harder to find under the M category.**

 **Now let's relate how this story fits within the timelines of both properties. First, on the Percy Jackson side, the first few chapters will take place in the middle of the third book "The Titan's Curse," somewhere between when they get on Apollo's train in Washington, D.C. and when they end up in New Mexico. After that, the plot will more or less play out through the fourth and fifth books, "The Battle of the Labyrinth" and "The Last Olympian," as well as covering stuff that happens in between the books and between certain events in those books. Now, onto the other side of things, the one related to Cargill's books. At the start of this story, the first half of the first book, "Dreams and Shadows" will have occurred but the second half will not have. Then, by the point we start entering the timeline of "The Battle of the Labyrinth," the second half of the first book and a lot of the stuff that happens between that book and the second book, "The Queen of the Dark Things," will have occurred. I apologize if this is a little hard to follow but I'm sure it will make more sense as you read the story. If you are confused at any point, please just let me know, okay? I'll gladly explain anything that wasn't conveyed effectively.**

 **But enough about this! Let's get to the story itself!**

 **Here's the first chapter of "The Demigod and the Damned": Redheaded Horrors**

* * *

The night was silent over the great expense of the vast fields in the heart of America. The winter air hung there, with the illusion of thickness thanks to the frigid temperatures. Then, a lone object, streaked across the landscape, shining like a molten comet on the earth. It was a train surrounded by a blinding golden-honey glow. The train traveled faster than any train should go, barreling down the smooth tracks. Its power moved, crackling through the earth that found snow melted as unseasonal life erupted upward. Stalks of wheat and corn and sunflowers grew at the train's touch. It left a razor slash of life and heat and furious green across the grey field behind the train.

Scarring the winter with summer, the train propelled by the sun traveled ever westward, closer to the entrance way to the realm where no life or light penetrated. California.

From a perspective unseen, beyond the Mist, beyond mortal eyes, the train was driven. Apollo guided the train with invisible hands, burning its engines white-hot and blazing. Across America's frost-tattooed map, his will ruled a line in bright red-yellow crayon.

Inside the train, inside a gate of steel-mesh curtains protecting a triple deck of cars were five young heroes, four young demigods and a satyr, tasked to find Artemis, stop a unstoppable beast from giving the Titans the edge they needed against the gods, and save a daughter of Athena. All of them were sleeping now. Zoë and Bianca, two of the hunters of Artemis, were resting in a Lexus on the top deck, no doubt dreaming of rescuing she who made them forever young; Thalia, daughter of Zeus, slept in a black Mercedes SLK. Grover the satyr was resting in the passenger's seat of a Lamborghini. They all were sleeping smoothly. Sadly, there was the fifth and final member of the party, who wasn't even suppose to be there, who could not cleave from his effort's a good night's sleep.

Percy Jackson was a demigod, a son of Poseidon, destined to either save or destroy Mt. Olympus, the reign of the gods, and Western Civilization itself. As a result of this, despite only being fourteen years old, he was no stranger to rough nights' sleeps. He could have blamed it on any number of factors, he was worried about one of his closest friends (who he knew for a fact was gravely hurt if not almost dead), he was on a moving train moving at break-neck speed, or that he was sleeping in the driver's seat of a car. But he knew better. He knew it was the dreams, the dreams of demigods, filled with horrifying and confusing visions that always proved to have great and often grave importance later on. But as he slept on the train of Apollo, getting closer to finding both Artemis and Annabeth in California, he found his sleep especially restless, as the dreams seemed to be fighting for space in his head like dancers at an overcrowded nightclub.

He had already experienced a dream of himself as an ancient hero, wielding Riptide, the same sword he possessed now in its covert pocket-pen disguise, while being guided by Zoë Nightshade, who looked exactly the same as she did now. But then the dream shifted, becoming something totally alien to the Greek demigod, and it unnerved him even more.

* * *

 _It was dark, with only the light of the full moon out of an opened window. Outside there were only vast seemingly endless hills and valleys of desert occasionally broken up by collections of boulders. There was furniture that looked so basic that even the Greeks would have viewed it as ancient. Despite their not being much to go on, it seemed this was a time and place before the ancient Greeks that worshiped the Olympians. The air itself seemed somehow different; it felt older, thicker, flowing with more energy. There was a bed, or rather a simple mat on a dirty floor with a lone worn-out and torn quilt. There was a boy sleeping on it, who looked even dirtier and more worn out then the quilt._

 _It was difficult to make out in the lack of light but there was a form moving in the corner of the room. And it was only noticeable because of many jewels and bands of precious metal on his robes and hands. One ring in particular, made of silver, on his right ring finger, glowed. Due to that light alone, the tanned and wrinkly face of an old and wise seeming man with a long and neatly groomed white beard could be seen. The clothing he wore was elaborate and finely designed, the stuff of highest nobility or even royalty. His gaze was focused intently on the boy, only shifting every once and while to the window._

 _A shape, draped in shadow but vaguely humanoid, entered the window at the darkest of hours. The shape crept to a small pile of rations and wages left in the other corner, before making his way over to the sleeping boy. It then sucked on the boy's right thumb._

 _Right when the lips wrapped around the digit, the old man leapt from his hiding place. The being's eyes, like two glowing yellow wells, widened in sheer surprise. It didn't notice the old man's right hand rise with the palm opened to it before it was too late._

 _The ring, the one on the old man's right ring finger, suddenly started to glow more vividly, bathing the darkened room in an unnaturally orange light like a wearable sun. The shape suddenly screamed in horror as a brand was being seared into its ebony flesh._

 _"_ _Stop!" The old man ordered, with the kind of authority and certainty only seen by gods. "Kneel before me,_ _ **demon**_ _!" Though its face showed confusion and fear and pain, the shadowy being obeyed and got down on knees that seemed to waver in and out of solidness. "Tell me, where might I find the rest of your unholy brothers?"_

 _The creature, the demon, shook his head, though it seemed like it was fighting the action. "I cannot tell you, for I do not know. But I know where_ _ **Asmodeus**_ _is, and he is the lord of us all. He knows where to find us and his word is our law. Find him and find us all."_

 _"_ _Summon him."_

 _The demon did so, and a towering shape cut from shadow at least ten feet tall with insanely broad shoulders appeared. It instantly moved to smite the old man. But then the ring glowed again and this being too had a glowing brand forced into his inky black skin. The more intimidating shape howled in pain, with it somehow overlapping with itself, sounding like it was three different but similar hellish voices shouting in near unison._

 _"_ _Now, bring to me the demons under your command, so that they might build the greatest temple to_ _ **God**_ _that the world has ever seen!"_

 _Despite his eyes smoldering like molten lava pits brighter than any earthly magma, with their being a few spots on his vast shoulders that were illuminated just as intensely, Asmodeus obeyed. One by one, demons were summoned and instantly branded too. Soon there was an army of_ _ **thirty-six**_ _beings that had appearances running the gambit that were united only by their general repulsiveness. The old man was unfazed, even smiling at them. The glow of the ring made his already confident face look down right invincible._

 ** _The dream then shifted, rippling like a lake's surface after a stone was thrown._**

 _The same old man, now looking far less invincible with a grime-covered face, rushed up the steps to a structure taller than any other in sight aside from the holy temple to_ _ **God Almighty**_ _that he had built with demonic aid. His face appeared to have aged, with the wrinkles far more pronounced and his beard no longer looking neatly groomed and thoroughly grey. It looked like at least a few decades had past since the previous vision. Below him, on the dirt-covered streets, the kingdom,_ _ **his kingdom**_ _, was in disarray. The poor were uncared for and houses of ill repute advertised their wares in the same streets that were cast in the shadows of temples of worship long since empty and defiled._

 _He charged up to the palace, walking right past confused guards, and entered the throne room. There, sitting on his throne of ivory that was overlaid with the finest gold and sided by two great lion statues along the arms, was the demon Asmodeus, disguised as him._

 _The true king raised the silver ring, bearing his seal, and branded the demon yet again. "Expose your true form, so that all may know the demon who ruled the kingdom unjustly!" he roared, his normally clam and regal voice filled to the brim with wrath._

 _Despite the searing pain, the demon smirked as he said, "I think you would not like it."_

 _"_ _Do it now! The true king of Israel commands it! Reveal your true self, now!"_

 _The demon removed the human form like a cloak, unveiling his true form. Not what the king had seen him in before, but the form he saved only for the fires of the pit below. The king recoiled, trembling as he stared at this abomination, with its six soulless eyes staring him back. In mere seconds thousand upon thousands of infinitely more horrifying visions and images played themselves out in his mind, like he was staring into the coal-black heart of evil itself. Steeling himself, the ruler of the land ordered this demon to summon demon after demon, demanding that it be double the number Asmodeus had brought fourth before. After branding all of the foul beings with his glowing, holy seal, the king had his artisans construct a vessel. The king forced all of the demons into the vessel. Once full, it was sealed with the sign of the king, and branded with the silver ring. He then ordered his men to dump it deep into the sea where none would ever find it._

 _With the banishment of the_ _ **over seventy**_ _ **demons**_ _, the kingdom once again prospered. The scars of the depraved rule of the demon disgusted as the king mostly faded, but not fully. The king looked on the horizon with a greatly relieved smile, tinged by some subtle sadness. He knew what the demon had done to him. He would have horrible nightmares of Asmodeus' true face, true faces, for the rest of his days. He took some solace in the fact that, for the rest of his reign, no other demon dared so much as set foot into_ _ **Israel**_ _._

* * *

Percy Jackson bolted upright in the Lamborghini's driver's seat. He looked, and noticed that Grover was shaking his arm.

"Percy," the satyr said, "The train's stopped."

Trying to shake off his drowsiness, the brunette lazily asked, "Uh, where are we? Did the train make it west? Is it morning?"

Grover looked uneasy, worried, rubbing one of his hairy arms. "Um…to answer those questions. I don't know where we are. I don't think we made it west. And its night."

Those answered blasted the lingering laziness out of the demigod like a sandblaster. "What!? How is that possible!? We were on that train all night! Apollo said we would be across a good chuck of America by morning!"

"A-Apollo?"

"Yeah, Apollo!" Percy said, trying desperately to not take his frustrations out on Grover. The satyr was already sensitive and over-emotional at the best of times, and he didn't want to lash out because of the horrible feelings that being delayed from saving Annabeth caused. Softening his hardened expression, he asked, "Why do you ask about Apollo?"

"Oh…uh…because he's over there, seeing what's wrong with the train," He said pointing forward.

"What?"

The son of Poseidon left the car, exited the train, and looked forward, where Grover was pointing to, and was astonished. True to the satyr's words, Apollo was in fact there. He had ditched the hobo getup from his last visit, instead opting for his other seen appearance. He wore the same jeans, loafers, and sleeveless T-shirt as before. In his drowsy state, it took Percy a moment to remember that it was Apollo and not Luke. It was only a second or two but he felt his one hand curl into a fist. They looked so alike. Both were about seventeen or eighteen in appearance, while only the one trying to overthrow Olympus by aiding Titan lord Kronos actually was. The Sun God had the same sandy hair and outdoorsy good looks. The differences came in the subtleties of appearance, like a lack of scars on his face and a smile that was brighter and more playful. Or at least, it would have been more bright and playful, or a smile, normally.

"Unbelievable, this is simply unbelievable," The Sun God muttered to himself as Percy approached. Thalia, Zoë, and Bianca were already awake and standing near the Olympian. "Ugh, things never go the way you want them to. I had this whole thing planned out. I was gonna be all sneaky and incognito, like Odysseus, or James Bond, or Batman! But someone just had to go and mess with my train. And now all the mystery is spoiled! Argh, I even dressed up like a bum who honored Dionysus too much at the bar!"

In his despair, Apollo pulled his lyre out of thin air, and started another haiku poem.

 _"_ _My train is so busted._

 _"_ _Can't help my lil' sister._

 _"_ _That really blows hard!"_

The male demigod really hoped that it was the Olympian's concern over his sister that caused that last haiku's quality, because it was probably the single worst one yet!

"What's wrong with it?" Percy asked as he got next to the Olympian, talking of the train.

Apollo sighed. "I don't know. Somehow, like an hour ago, the train stopped moving. And for as awesome as I am, I can't seem to fix it." The lyre vanished into nothing. He then put a hand to his chin and pondered. Even when annoyed, in the darkness of the winter night, his face was almost blinding, with his eyes flickering like molten gold. That was added to by a devious smirk. "Um, maybe I can get Hephaestus to help by using the **"gift of prophecy"** to tell him the next few places Ares and Aphrodite will be meeting up?"

Any notion of delight Percy might have gotten from imagining the hated God of War getting ambushed on a date with a girl that was already married was marred by other details. "Wh-what…how, how can anyone make your train stop? You're a Olympian!"

"Maybe it was the Titans?" Thalia suggested.

"Um?" Apollo said, thinking of that possibility, "a good idea. Zeus certainty hit the jackpot with you, Thalia, sweetheart. Beauty and brains, what more could a guy want?"

The daughter of Zeus smiled a little dopily and blushed a bit, despite trying to not do so. A small part of her hated how it had to be hot god who had said that, but the larger part of her wasn't. Seeing someone who could be so intimidating and who had a Goth look be so smitten was oddly adorable in its own way. Percy had to resist the urge to mock Thalia, lest he get a fist to the face or a spear to the backside.

Besides, as odd as it was, a small part of Percy hoped it was the titans who had done this. Given his final dream, he desperately wanted to believe it wasn't that multi-headed demon. Just thinking of the word **"demon"** made him feel oddly uncomfortable.

"So…" Zoë asked, wanting to move on from her patron goddess' brother's flirting, "where exactly are we?"

"Austin, Texas."

"How do thy know?"

He smiled. "I'm the god of prophecy. I know stuff."

 _'_ _Yeah, aside from meanings of the prophecy given by your oracle!'_ Percy snapped in his head, knowing better than to ever say it out loud, still mad at not getting a clear answer.

"Oh," Apollo added off-handedly while pointing, "and there's a sign saying so over there."

The demigods and satyr all turned, and true enough there was a sign saying this was Austin, Texas. They all looked at the God of Prophecy with mildly disapproving stares.

If Apollo was aware of such looks, he paid them no mind. Instead, he thought out loud again. "It might take a while for the train to get fixed…so why don't you all go into town for some fun?"

Everyone looked at each other with looking ranging from pure confusion to disbelief tinged with barely contained rage. Their close friend and a goddess, Apollo's twin sister no less, were missed and in danger and he wanted them to go sight-seeing!? But, as much as they didn't like to admit it, everyone eventually realized they couldn't go anywhere until the train was fixed.

"What do you have in mind?" Percy asked. "What's there to do in Austin, Texas?"

"Oh, there's tons of fun to be had!" Apollo replied cheerfully. "Dionysus might be the god of parties but that doesn't mean I'm against a good time. There are more bars and strip clubs than you shake a stick at!" He saw the teens' confused looks. "Oh, and don't worry—Thalia, Zoë, Bianca—there are strip clubs with the ladies in mind." He winked.

Yet again, everyone looked at everyone else who hadn't been alive since people started using AD in their date keeping. Thalia and Zoë, despite their superficial differences, one being a personification of the Gothic look and the other showing classic elegance, both were trapped in a big blush that threatened to overpower their faces. Bianca followed suit.

Fighting against the shock at the suggestion, Percy eventually forced out, "We're teens."

"So?" Apollo asked with a raised eyebrow, not getting what the problem was. Then it clicked a few seconds later. "Ooooh…that's right, you're all under-aged for that kind of stuff. All you mortals seem the same age to me." He said with no sense of apology. It was still so surreal talking to Olympians sometimes, beings with concerns and opinions and mindsets thoroughly removed from those of humanity. Not giving the matter any more thought, the Sun God added, "Okay, well, if your looking for family friendly stuff…how about the Alamo Draft House? Yeah, that'll do the trick!" He snapped his fingers.

"What is…?"

"One of the best movie theaters in the country! Go and see a double matinée!"

"Uh…"

"And don't worry about the train! In fact, here," The eighteen year old who was over four thousand years old said, waving his hand in the empty air. Amid the cold winds, five orbs of fire formed and then morphed into circular pagers the size of a human palm. They floated towards the teens. They grabbed them. They noticed the sun pattern designs made up of tiny little light blubs that currently weren't blinking. "These will teleport you back on the train, no matter where you are, when it starts moving. Oh, and here is some cash for the tickets. Make sure to hog out at the snack bar. The nachos are killer!" He waved his hand again, and roughly a thousand dollars appeared. It had originally been golden drachma, coins from ancient Greece, but he changed it before they could bring it up.

"Um…"

"Go on, go on! You crazy kids have fun! Shoo, shoo!" Apollo said with a big smile.

For the umpteenth time in a few minutes, the teens were clueless about what to do. So, they followed the god's heed. They made left the train yard of Austin and moved towards the city. Their expressions were dazed, still taking all of this in. But, out of the corner of his ocean-green eyes, Percy noticed something walking around the train yard. It was a big stray dog, with mangy fur that was thick, full, and having a salt-and-peeper color scheme. It just stared at him for a few moments, before trotting off behind a motionless train.

Paying the incident no more mind, the son of Poseidon followed the others into Austin.

* * *

Washington D.C. had been the last location the group of five had been to before entering the train of Apollo. It had the kind of winter one would imagine, white. But winters in Austin, Texas were not like that. Instead of the whiteness of snow, the primary colors present were brown and yellow. The grass was a sickly mustardy color and the trees, now leafless, were somewhere between buttery and bronzed. With it being near the end of December, the city had started a long, lingering, and earth-toned trod towards springtime. The air was chilly and crisp, but feeling warm when compared to elsewhere.

The demigods traveled through the city that felt both sleeping and stripped bare. They had been walking for several hours, unable to locate the Alamo Draft House. Due to the late hours and finding themselves in the seedier part of the city, they had not come across a single living soul to provide them with directions. Despite being partly divine, the wear and tear of the endless walking was getting to them. Grover looked at the withered up plants around him. While Grover felt bad for them in their current state, he was currently more worried about himself.

"Need…water…" The satyr groaned, "Or…a snack bar would work too!"

"Agreed," Thalia nodded with a pant, with the dark eyeliner around her stormy blue eyes starting to run down the edges thanks to the copious amount of sweat she was generating.

"Some water would be most pleasant to thy, indeed," Zoë added, with the toil of their trek seeming to weigh down her odd accent.

"Too tired to bother arguing with you about how stupid your words are!" Thalia added.

 _'_ _Well, at least something good is coming out of this walk,'_ Percy thought to himself. He then decided that since now was as good a time as any to reveal his second dream to the others. The first dream, the one involving Zoë, was not discussed. By the time he was finished, most of those present looked at each other in sheer confusion.

"You had a dream about a creature and place that wasn't from Greece?" Thalia asked.

"Yeah. I'm assuming that's not normal."

"Don't look at me," Bianca said, "I'm still kinda in shock from the whole 'gods and monsters being real' thing."

"I've talked with a lot of demigods, Percy," Grover said, "and I've never heard anything about monsters or eras before the ones of ancient Greece. This might be a first."

"For some reason, I don't think this is the kind of first that's a good thing."

There was gap of a few minutes where no one said anything after that, more or less silently agreeing with Percy's fatalistic assumption. Then, someone spoke up again.

"So, does anyone know where this Alamo Draft House even is?" Bianca asked the group.

"Don't look at me," Percy said, "I've never been to Texas before."

Sadly, the consensus of the group was the same. None of them had been to Texas before.

"Well...maybe we'll find a sign," Grover said, trying hard to remain optimistic.

No one said much of anything as they trekked through a massive, unfamiliar city. Similar to Percy, as much as he hated the walk, the satyr was almost thankful for its presence. It prevented anyone from snapping at anyone else. Between Annabeth and Artemis being taken, there had been plenty of reasons to provoke conflict. They hoped to avoid conflict.

There was piercing scream that stabbed the air for a few moments before getting muffled.

As Grover inwardly groaned about how this wasn't the kind of sign he had in mind, the group of five worked their way down a few alleyways towards the source of the sound. The Satyr's enhanced hearing allowing him to follow even the muted sounds easily.

Soon enough they reached the source of the sound, but as they approached Grover, with a manic face and hushed words, told everyone to hide, since their were monsters here. The demigods followed his advice and took cover behind some various garbage cans. From their covers of disgusting debris, they saw the sight before them, and were puzzled.

Outside of Bianca, all of those present had seen many different monsters, with the recent experience at the Air and Space Museum proving that with the Nemean Lion. They all thought nothing could be quite as scary as a beast with fur immune to all weapons. But as they looked at the creature before them, they all realized that they were wrong.

There were twelve of the unknown beings, and they were exceptionally ugly, the most unpleasant, rotten, dastardly cudgels of creatures one could witness. They were so alike, with little to no physical differences between them. They were all squat and portly, dressed from head to toe in soiled, loose fitting garments. Despite everything about these unsettling creatures, Percy couldn't help but think that these might have been the first mythical beasts he saw not wearing modern clothing of some kind, and **that** , strangely enough, was what made this feel especially odd. Their feet were cast in iron boots that were rusted slightly around the rivets. They looked like old men with bright red eyes. They had scraggly beards that unfurled almost to the ground from their massive overbites, with the top of the beards being reddish-brown, the middle grey, and the bottom white. Their mouths were mangled, their lips swollen, and their teeth gnarly and jagged. Five sharp, yellow talon-like claws were on display, one at the end of a finger part of a fat fist. But of greater interest was what was in their left hands, long iron pikes.

The weapons were bright red, with the blood of the family they had just murdered. A young man, equally young woman, a child no more than five years old were lying face down with giant crimson holes in their backs that leaked onto the pavement. These beasts stared at their handiwork like a starving man looking at a grand buffet.

Percy felt his left hand tighten into a fist. His rage boiled over as he used his other hand to grab his pen, ready to turn it into the sword Riptide. He knew he'd be using it soon.

Then he saw something so sickening that the fury churning his belly was threatening to escape, along with the contents in his stomach as vomit.

The dozen creatures removed the dyed red woolen caps on their heads, exposing mostly bald heads with the few bits of hair remaining showing the worst case of helmet hair ever. They brought them to the ever-growing pool of blood, soaked them in the red life-juice like they were sponges, and then placed them back on their heads carefully. They released sighs of intense relief, like they had been dying of thirst and hunger, as crimson tears seeped down the side of their faces, falling onto the tops of their long beards.

No one had been prepared for that sight, of these creatures putting human blood on their heads. It was strange and horrific, something they had no foreknowledge about. No matter how strange or savage the appearances or actions of the monsters of Greek mythology, there was usually some precedent, something to draw knowledge from. They conversed with each other in hushed tones, revealing that none of them could recall any Greek myths about creatures that put human blood on their hats and then wore them, or very many that wore hats for that matter. They returned their gaze to the twelve beasts.

They were high—punch-drunk off the fresh soaking of their caps. Tingles rippled along their malformed bodies. Their minds were barely lucid, unaware of the outside world. They were floating on electric currents, each new heartbeat the aftershocks of spent love.

A faint light coming from right next to him diverted Percy's attention from the horrible spectacle. He turned to the source. It was Thalia, who was casting electric currents of a different, far more literal kind, as blue ribbons of energy snaked around her body. Her face was absolutely livid. She appeared to have the same idea as Percy, because her collapsible spear was extended from its mace-can disguise. She was eager to fight.

Suddenly, amid the terror and desire to battle he was feeling, Percy's mind replayed something Chiron had said when the centaur came to consul him after not initially being part of this quest.

 _"_ _You and Thalia are much alike. The difference is that you are less sure of yourself than Thalia. That could be good or bad. But one thing I can say: both of you together would be a dangerous thing."_

Percy felt like they were about to find out, but he hoped it would only be a dangerous thing for those foul creatures.

With a battle cry and the crackling of electricity, Thalia leapt out from behind her cover and charged at the beasts bathing their heads in blood. They looked at her surprised, wondering if they were all seeing the same thing. As she was running towards them, Thalia called down a blast of lightning, which struck several of the creatures at once. The darkened alley was awash with a pure white light that briefly blinded all but Thalia. Amid the confusion, the daughter of Zeus charged to the closet of the redheaded horrors and impaled him with her spear. She had counted on the creature turning into dust after contact with the celestial bronze, allowing her to continue right onto the next one.

But that plan was derailed the moment she found that her spear was still in the first foe's flesh. Her previously rage-fueled and battle-ready expression morphed into raw confusion. She had never encountered any monster that didn't turn to dust after contact with celestial bronze. The Goth's confusion escalated and took on new features as a thick bright red liquid started to pour out of the wound and left an eerie crimson color to the faint glow of the weapon. Slowly, she realized what it was.

 ** _Blood!_** Somehow this monster bled!

Even though the one she had impaled had died, Thalia felt little closure as the blood flowed. She was so in shock, she almost forgot about the nine other creatures around her. Several had bad burns from the lightning strike while another two had been killed by it. The daughter of Zeus only remembered them when one thrust his iron pike at her. Acting with enchanted relaxes she raised her spear just in time to clash with the pike, creating a shower of sparks. She attempted to force the other weapon away but its wielder was stronger, with it feeling like she was trying to push against a car compressor.

The creatures were about to swarm her when all of a sudden arrows started to bombard them. Bianca and Zoë' rained down cover fire from their cover while Percy and Grover retrieved Thalia. Her allies only now had their eyesight recover enough to truly help. The young man and satyr got back to the others right as they stopped firing their arrows. The main reason for this was because, while they were successfully piercing the creatures' hides, they weren't killing them. The worst they had done was impaling one in the left eye. While he howled in pain and the blood flowed down his cheek like a thick ruby tear stream, he didn't go down. The shaft was still lodged in his eye, but he didn't remove it. These creatures must have had insanely high pain tolerance.

Similar to Thalia moments ago, all of the demigods and satyr recoiled at the sight of blood. Monsters weren't supposed to bled.

Normally these capable creatures would have swarmed them, but they paused too. They also realized something about their opponents. Slowly, it all clicked, made sense to them. These were human that could see them, that could call down the elements to come to their aid, and had weapons designed to take down things aside from other humans.

"Demigods…" One of them said, presenting those foul teeth and breath that smelled like a burning dumpster, like fire and soot passed over swelling rot and rancid produce. The other eight followed suit. Any lingering effects of their blood-high were obliterated. Their expressions were now overflowing with the lust for bloodshed and the hunger for sadism.

"This will be a day to remember, boys!" A second one said, as the others cheered.

"Oh, what a boon you shall be!" Another echoed, with him sounding on the edge of ecstasy, "Your deaths will be slow. We will get every. Last. Drop! With your semi-divine blood, we shall not need blood for decades! No more animal or human blood for us!"

"You use animal blood?" Grover asked in shock. "That's horrible!"

The four demigods looked at the satyr in disbelief, as did the crimson-capped creatures.

"Hey, Dietrich," one of the dark creatures asked the companion closest to him, snapping out of it first, "is a satyr's blood more like a human's or a animal's?"

"Good question, Axel. I don't actually know," answered Dietrich, pondering it for a moment or two before raising his pike, "but I know a way to find out!"

"Run!" Percy screamed. He and the others darted away as quickly as they could.

The chase was on. The iron-boots of the creatures clanked and clanged on the ground. The demigods darted down alleyways, climbed over obstacles, and kept a good pace. As young and as athletic as they were, the semi-mortals were only delaying the inevitable.

They didn't know that these were **redcaps** , and redcaps are simply impossible to outrun.

The redcaps knew this, and they savored the looks of fear and terror that would appear on these demigods' faces when they realized that fact.

Soon the demigods were realizing how bad the situation they were in was. They were in an unknown city, in the middle of the night, with weapons that didn't kill these creatures easily, and they had no knowledge of what these things were to begin with. Plus, on top of all of that, they'd been tired and thirsty before this chase started. Things looked bleak.

"If anyone has any ideas, now would be a really good time to share them!" Bianca said.

"I've got one!" Thalia remarked as she brought her hand towards her charm bracelet, "Percy, stay with me! Everyone else, keep going!" With that, she tapped her bracelet and out came Aegis, her shield. The bronze weapon was decorated with an image of Medusa's head that could scare the daylights out of moral and monster alike.

And the reaction of the redcaps proved to do just that. They recoiled in sheer horror at the sight, with several of them covering their eyes with their hands; accidently creating small cuts as their curved, yellow talons scraped against their cheek flesh. The sight was oddly cathartic to the two demigods. The redcaps even screamed. None of them dared so much as take another step. They stayed that way for a good ten seconds.

Then, a few of them looked at the terrifying piece of metal anew, with disbelieving eyes. One of them, with his eyes partially shielded, took a tentative step forward. Nothing. He took much wide step, acting as if he was forcing his way through an active wind tunnel. Nothing. He took several more equally wide steps and still nothing negative occurred. Some of the others looked at him and realized the same thing. This shield did nothing. It was a scare tactic and nothing more. Looking at each other, they grinned and advanced.

Thalia and Percy once again were stunned. They had never met anyone or anything that got over Aegis like this! The only thing that snapped the two teens out of it was all of the horrors running to them at full speed.

"I hope you have an idea, Percy!" Thalia said with considerable alarm in her voice.

Percy looked around, desperate to find anything that might give them an advantage. His ocean-green darted around ceaselessly until they focused on a target; a fire hydrant. An idea formed in his mind. Pointing at the red object, he shouted, "Hit it with your spear!"

Not having time to ask why, Thalia drew her spear and smashed the fire hydrant into pieces. Water blasted its way out of it as a massive geyser in the middle of a city. Focusing on the spray, Percy channeled it in a grand arcing motion straight over his and Thalia's heads. From there, the water slammed into to the charging redcaps, blasting them off their feet. They hovered about two feet off the ground, trapped in a swirling vortex of water that formed a more or less straight tunnel. They fought futility against constantly moving currents that lifted them off the ground, but every attempt to breech the water resulted in it repairing itself before anything more could be done. As much as Percy would have had liked to keep things this way, he doubted he would have the energy to do so, or that the water would keep coming. With that mind, he froze the water, raised it to ten feet into the air, and then hurled it down at the ground with violent force.

The sound of the collision was akin to many cannon blasts experienced up-close. Jagged shards of ice, some as big as swords, impaled the various kinds of trash and walls around. Percy didn't know if it was more dumb luck or his water powers that spared he and Thalia. He didn't have time to dwell on it, as some of the redcaps started to stir. They were obviously banged up pretty badly, some had broken limbs and others had icicles still impaling them in places. Three of them didn't get back up or move at all. As good as it felt to cut the numbers of these foul fiends by half, it was a pyrrhic victory. The ones remaining weren't nearly injured enough to attempt finishing them off without backup.

He and Thalia ran off. Their breathes were starting to get more labored, more draining. Both of them had used their demigod powers, and that was starting to make them tire. They quickly caught up with the others, who had apparently not been too far away, most likely wanting to see if their help was needed. United, they once again ran in desperation.

* * *

After running for what had to be a solid ten minutes, the demigods finally had to stop. They were in an alleyway that only had one feature to differentiate it from the rest of them, there was a guy puking in it. Some unfortunate soul was empting his stomach near trashcans next to a particularly unpleasant looking building near the alleyway's back; a single light that flashed on and off above him revealed his presence to the demigods.

"Okay…okay…I-I think it's all gone. I think it-" He said to himself, with occasional hiccups serving as misplaced commas. He burped slightly. "-I think-" He felt his insides roiling, his gut muttering as loudly as he. He burped again. Then he vomited again, puking up a mess of booze and cheese. "Oh. Lasagna was a mistake." He vomited again. Struggling to get away from his mess, he made it a few feet away before collapsing.

Ignoring him, the teens were torn about what to do. Thalia and Zoë wanted to fight them, saying that their numbers were cut in half and they were all injured. Grover and Bianca wanted to avoid them, citing that they didn't even know what these beasts were. Percy was caught somewhere in the middle, torn about what the right call was.

Then they heard the clang-cling of metal boots on pavement and concrete. That made their choice for them, further enforced by six squat and yet intimidating shadows at the entrance to the alleyway thanks to the streetlights behind them giving them added menace. The redcaps were there, all looking even more eager for the kill. Their pikes were raised and their pace of approach was full sprint. Their red eyes were squinted, focusing upon their targets like the dreaded furies of Hades themselves.

Percy glared back just as harshly and revealed Riptide in its true form, a medium length xiphos made of celestial bronze that had been washed in the golden ichor of Ares himself. Thalia extended her spear and equipped Aegis, with her stare, mirroring that of the King of Olympus, rivaling that of her shield's legendary frightfulness. Both Bianca and Zoë primed their bows of Artemis. Grover cowered and prayed to the Fates for a miracle.

And for whatever seemingly limitless cruelty the Fates possess, they seemed to listen.

"Now, I'm gonna enjoy gutting ya like…" One of the redcaps gloated sadistically, before stopping midsentence, trailing off into worry. His expression promptly changed. "Oh no…" All of the fire and brimstone in his eyes vanished and was replaced by raw fear.

"Oh, w-what is all this then?" The drunken man at the back of the alleyway muttered.

As quick as a flash, the redcaps stopped dead in their tracks, grinding to a screeching halt. Their iron boots literally left a piercing screeching sound and sparks on the ground. The frightening faces of the five redcaps were awash with absolute fright.

The teens saw this and were profoundly confused, so they turned towards the source.

The man who was drunk and sitting on his backside in a dirty alleyway was tiring to sit up. He had done so five times beforehand, aggressively rocking himself upright, before managing to succeed the sixth time. He propped himself up on wobbly arms.

Percy looked at the others, seeing if the Mist was playing any tricks on his eyes. Their expressions told him that it wasn't. This drunk who could barely stand was what scared the redcaps so much, what scared the same horrifying creatures that had withstood the power of the offspring of both Poseidon and Zeus? The man walked towards them, and as he did the group of five each looked over this seemingly ordinary but puzzling presence.

He looked grizzled and tired, well past his prime despite barely being over twenty. His face was that of a world-weary twenty-one going on forty-five. The top of his head was a tangled mop of greasy red hair that grew in long shaggy tufts. It actually grew longer than he liked, but not long enough to remind him to bother getting it cut. Underneath this carroty top was a scrawny excuse of a young man, with a gangly, frail, and freckled frame that drooped and bowed as he walked forward. The unimposing nature of his physique was enhanced by a twitchiness that randomly rippled along the feeble form, seeming to go back and fourth between a perpetual nervous tick and a muscular defect.

As he got closer, the demigods got a better look at this odd man's facial features. Like his body, this man's face was gaunt, almost sickly looking. There was a field of red-brown stubble, almost thick enough to distract from his pointy chin. Almost. His eyes were sunken with deep and dark circles pooling beneath them. And his nose was a tad too, for lack of a better word, cartoonish to seem real. It was the kind of face people laughed at.

But despite his comical appearance, the dour expression and grim countenance kept him from crossing into the realms of looking goofy or creepy—leaving him merely awkward and gawky. The true effect of his face, though, was the total result, greater than the sum of its parts. Sullen and beaten, tired and drained, his overall demeanor was that of tool worn all the way down. He had the look of a man who just didn't give a crap anymore.

He stopped when he got a pace or two behind the demigods. His eyes surrounded by skin like shadow surveyed the situation. He went back and forth between the humans and the redcaps several times. Nothing held his gaze for more than a few seconds aside from Grover, who started to shake ever so slightly at the greater attention he was receiving.

The mysterious young man turned to Percy, who happened to be the closet person to him. "You're all human, at least partially, aren't you? And you all can see the **redcaps** too?" He asked cautiously, with an undercurrent of unconcern.

The son of Poseidon reeled back in sheer surprise. There were several reasons for this reaction. Firstly, here was a rogue demigod (he assumed he was one) who had survived into young adulthood outside of Camp Half-Blood. This was something unheard of to him. Secondly, if he wasn't a demigod, that meant he was somehow mortal who could see through the Mist and that was even more unlikely. The only other mortal he knew of who could do that was his own mother, a lover of his Olympian father. Thirdly, he seemed to know what these creatures were, despite none of the other demigods having a single clue. And finally, and most importantly, he seemed unfazed by any of it. Fighting against his own shock, Percy eventually nodded his head.

Without saying a word, the redheaded man took a few paces, until he was between the teens who couldn't have been more confused and the redcaps who couldn't have been more terrified. Once he was there, he just stood there for a solid ten seconds. In that time, the twitching of his body seemed to slacken considerably. It was still present, but it wasn't quite as noticeable. He then inhaled deeply as his lips unleashed a crisp 'tsk'. "So…how can I help you!?" he asked, with a sudden jolly tone that felt so artificial.

"D-don't interfere! They are ours to hunt and drain!"

"Are they now?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he leaned back to look at them. "That's most interesting. Because, unless I'm going blind, I don't see 'property of the Limestone Kingdom's shit-stains' written on them? Let me guess, it's in the fine print?"

Percy and the others were amazed at how causally, how flippantly, this man was handling himself. Despite them seeing how strong and vicious these creatures were, he didn't seem to care. Some of the group of five couldn't help but wonder how much of that was the booze talking, which cast a thick odor almost as powerful as the stench of the redcaps.

"S-Stay…stay away, **Colby!** " The leading redcap said, trying to sound scary but still coming across as scared. "These **demigods** are ours! We need their precious blood!"

"Yeah…about that," The haggard looking men, Colby apparently, said with a drawl, "see, I'm not cool with that. You redcaps disgust me, and well, I kinda hate your guts. You'll have to look elsewhere. Why don't you go and find a dead cat somewhere?" He crossed his arms while flashing a smirk he knew really twisted the redcaps' insides.

"Why don't you go and fornicate with your human boy-toy's ass!?"

Colby's expression darkened, the redcap was worried about what line he just crossed. "I'm not going to ask nicely again. Leave now, or it will be extremely painful for you." He ordered, his voice no longer seemed drunk or sarcastic, he sounded powerful, serious.

The redcaps balked at the shift, then the lead one got cocky again as he flashed a smirk of his own, with his looking like a collection of jagged tombstones worn down by decay. "You're buffing, **wish boy!** No matter what your power, you wouldn't kill any of us! Even you can't take on the entire **Limestone Kingdom** by yourself! If you **disbelieved** any of us, the **fairy court** would hunt you down and hang you up by your entrails!"

"Sadly your correct, Dietrich," Colby admitted with a sigh of disappointment. Dietrich gloated over his victory…until the human smirked back, "But who said anything about killing any of you?"

Some of the redcaps' red eyes widened as they realized what Colby had in mind. The others were ignorant of the world of hurt that was about to be unleashed upon them.

The twenty-one year old spoke his next words confidently, like he was reciting them from a page he had committed to memory, "Lord, bow down thy heavens and descend. Touch the mountains and they shall smoke. Send forth lightning, and thou shalt scatter them. Shoot out thy arrows, and thou shalt trouble them. Put forth thy hand from on high, take me out, and deliver me from many waters. From the hand of strange children!"

Instantly, the redcaps recoiled in horror so serve and so consuming that it made their earlier panic at seeing Aegis look like they had seen a spider before quickly killing it. They grabbed their ears to block out the sound, but the words passed through unblocked. Their clawed hands did nothing but tear out pieces of their faces.

Colby then yelled, repeating himself, "Lord! Bow down thy heavens and descend! Touch the mountains and they shall smoke! Send forth lightning, and thou shalt scatter them! Shoot out thy arrows! And thou shalt trouble them! Put forth thy hand from on high! Take me out! And deliver me from many waters! From the hand of strange children!"

Each of the six redcaps had fallen, writhing in absolute agony, suffering from terrible seizures. Their insides were boiling and bubbling up. Their deformed bodies became even more disfigured as blisters popped up and bloody patches of skin became cleaved off. Sores oozed pus. Eyes became swollen with blood and tears. Every breath became agony. One redcap tried to tear at their beard, pulling out bloody clumps with meat at the end. Another pounded on their own skull with clenched fists, leaving massive indents. Anything was more bearable than this. They hoped to dull the pain by replacing it with another. But there was no dulling this, no pain that could rival this. Their bodies were starting to smoke and flickering embers could be seen starting to ignite and spread.

"Lord! Bow down thy heavens and descend! Touch the mountains and they shall smoke! Send forth lightning, and thou shalt scatter them! Shoot out thy arrows! And thou shalt trouble them! Put forth thy hand from on high! Take me out! And deliver me from many waters! From the hand of strange children!"

One by one, the redcaps each stumbled to their feet and ran away as fast as they could. They screamed as they flee, acting as if they had just seen the pits of Tartarus. Any longer and they would have incinerated in place, leaving only a pile of ashes in their boots. It was better to flee than face that fiery fate. Soon all but one of them had fled.

"LORD! BOW DOWN THY HEAVENS AND DESCEND! TOUCH THE MOUNTAINS! AND THEY SHALL SMOKE! SEND FORTH LIGHTNING! AND THOU SHALT SCATTER THEM! SHOOT OUT THY ARROWS! AND THOU SHALT TROUBLE THEM! PUT FORTH THY HAND FROM ON HIGH! TAKE ME OUT! AND DELIVER ME FROM MANY WATERS! FROM THE HAND OF STRANGE CHILDREN!"

The last redcap, Dietrich, could take it no longer. He too fled behind his brothers. As he fled, his foul voice shouted curses and vulgarities that were mostly drowned out by Colby's shouting. That same shouting rung loud in the alleyway echoing against the walls; the last few syllables faintly reverberated a few seconds after Colby stopped.

The twenty-one year old looked at the feat before him with mild enjoyment, and nothing else. "Damn redcaps, always gotta shout my ass off. Leaves me with such a dry throat." He turned around and saw that all five of the teenagers had their mouths hanging open. That caused a small smirk to form on his stubble-ridden face. "Yeah," he said with that smirking starting to grow, "that's all it takes to scare away some redcaps. They are all about bloodshed and battle but shouting a little scripture gets them fleeing like rabbits. And the best part, it doesn't have to be Christian scripture. Any kind of holy text will do; anything from Jewish and Islamic to Hindu and Buddhist. But then again, I doubt that would have helped you that much. The Greek gods never saw fit to give people a holy book. The closest you've got are the epic poems of Homer and the _Theogony_ of Hesiod. Why would you get anymore? After all, human beings were annoying ants made by the titans who the gods only kept around because they liked fear-filled offerings, yes?"

There was something about that question, and this man's tone, that made the demigods writhe in instinctual anger. It was rare to ever hear a being disrespecting the gods like that unless they were a monster or titan. Hearing a demigod, or even a mortal say it was unheard of. But since he was insulting either their parents or their beloved masters, it was absolutely infuriating. Percy was especially mad, with this man's bitter anti-god attitude reminding him of Luke, the one being whom he hated more than anyone other than Ares and Kronos. Only the demigods' exhaustion and gratitude for this man saving them saved him from their wrath.

"Listen," Colby said, "I can tell that you've got a long story to tell. If its got demigods in Austin, I'm gonna need a few more drinks. It'll help me handle how badly the infallible Olympians have screwed up this time. Please follow me inside. The bar's still opened."

"B-but-but," Percy said, still reeling in the shock of it all, "We're teens!"

"So I've noticed," Colby said matter-of-factly, before smirking, "Don't worry, you don't have to drink anything. I'll drink enough for everyone present!" He chuckled a bit at that. "Now, come on." He took a few steps forward then he stopped. Not even turning around, Colby added, "Oh, and you can stop hiding, satyr. Trust me, no one in there will be unnerved by some goat horns and hooves. There are patrons inside that are way odder!"

With that, the twenty-one year old walked forward. The five teenagers remained there they were. They all knew they should have felt happy or grateful to for being saved. However, there was something about this stranger that just made them feel unsettled. Regardless, they had no other options, and this Colby didn't seem to mean them any harm. Despite how scared he was Grover confirmed that this guy wasn't a monster.

The four demigods and the satyr tentatively followed behind Colby. They all hoped they hadn't simply traded one kind of redheaded horror for another.

* * *

 **Okay, so, that was the first chapter of "The Demigod and the Damned"! I hope you liked it!**

 **Now, I know this chapter didn't tell you too much about the world of "Dreams and Shadows" and "The Queen of the Dark Things" but in some ways that was the point. This chapter was meant to introduce some parts of the world and get your interest up for the reveals about it to come later. Part of the reason was to see if there would be any interest in this story idea. Despite me really liking this idea, I already have a lot of stories that I'm currently working on. Even so, I felt the need to test the waters of a new fandom. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you'd like to see more of this story, okay?**

 **Building off of that idea, since I've never written for any of the Percy Jackson characters before, please let me know how I did writing them, okay? Percy and Apollo have me especially concerned.**

 **I'm also curious to see what everyone thought of that flashback scene to a time before ancient Greece. That will have HUGE importance for later in the story! I wonder if anyone can guess what event that is depicting and why that might be important. I look forward to seeing your guesses! :)**

 **Anyway, with nothing else to say, I look forward to seeing your thoughts on this!**

 **Until next time, please read, review, favor, follow, and spread the word!**


	2. The Cursed and the Damned Part 1

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone! Firstly, to those who favored, reviewed, and/or are now following this story…THANK YOU SO MUCH! I honestly can't say how happy I am you took times out of your busy lives to do that! I was truly TERRIFIED that this would get no support, and that I might have to abandon it! Luckily though, that wasn't the case, so know you'll get more of it! Lol.**

 **There's one BIG thing I need to explain about this next chapter, however. Its actually only a little less than half of what I had originally envisioned as the next chapter. Due to the combined chapters length (already close to 40 pages!) and me struggling with a few scenes in the next one, it felt fitting to spilt this one into two. Plus, I didn't want to bombard you guys with LOTS of new characters and info in the course of one chapter. Now I'll do so in two! Lol.**

 **Also, to anyone who comes across this story and likes it…PLEASE TELL YOUR OTHER PERCY JACKSON LOVING FRIENDS TO GIVE IT A SHOT! Lol.**

 **I'll have more to say in the closing author's notes but I can't think of much else right now. So, without any more delay, let's start the second chapter of this story!**

 **Here's the second chapter of "The Demigod and the Damned:: The Cursed and the Damned: Part 1**

* * *

The tension and dread in the bellies of the four magically enchanted teenagers and the satyr wasn't eased at all as they approached the entrance to a building. It was in a back alley, near a particularly pungent dumpster fed rancid scarps of fish and other less describable things from a nearby restaurant. Next to this toilet for a classier establishment was a door made of solid metal looking like it would have taken a dozen demigods and a battering ram to break it down. It was unmarked, scratched and rusty from years of abuse. It looked entirely unmovable. All Colby did was push and it opened with no resistance. Unbeknownst to the demigods and satyr, only the gifted like them could do that.

Beyond that door was another door, this one a simple wooden one. Between the two doors was a small, dimly lit foyer. There were six people inside of it, but it could only hold three. Percy felt Zoë's forehead press against his upper back while Thalia experienced the sensation of Grover's goatee rubbing against her right hand. In short, everyone was crammed in like a fresh can of sardines until Colby opened the second door and entered. Feeling a little better at having slightly more space, the teens noticed how the walls here were dingy, poorly kept, and there was no attempt to hide that.

Above the second door, there was a sign. At first it was written in English, but then the letters started to fade and shift. As the demigods thought it was their dyslexia at work, they noticed that letters became perfectly readable after they had changed into another set of characters outside of the English alphabet, ancient Greek, a language that they were more comfortable with. Then they read what it said, and any sense of comfort was lost.

 _ONLY THE CURSED AND DAMNED MAY DRINK HERE. ALL OTHERS MAY POLITELY FUCK OFF._

The party of five all looked at each, noting similar expressions of confusion and worry.

' _Maybe I should see if those redheaded trolls are still around?'_ Percy thought to himself as he, against his better judgment, was the first of them to follow behind this stranger.

The son of Poseidon looked into the bar, and instantly realized why his mother had told him to avoid places like this. It was a place whose gloom was only rivaled by Hades, the realm of the dead, and the god who ran it. There was that same feeling of hopelessness and despair. Thankfully, the details of the space itself were not quite as fantastical. It was a twenty-by-twenty room with a shoddily assembled bar top, stray barrels and crates for seats, and grey concrete walls only given some color by a hodgepodge of fainted stains. The only light source came from a series of buzzing old bulbs dangling perilously above uncovered from cords and exposed wiring that swayed back and forth like hanged men. There was no artwork or any other conscious effort to lighten the dismal mood like a shroud save for a lone, cheaply framed copy of _Dogs Playing Poker_ on black velvet.

Percy heard the footsteps of those behind him. Grover's hooves were especially loud. Those in the bar seemed to think so too, as they all turned to look at the new arrivals. Whatever discussions were forming a thick din in the musky air suddenly ended. And for the latest time in the past few minutes, the demigods felt a thick tension. Percy had seen some odd looking creatures, ranging from a Minotaur in its underwear and a Cyclops in a poorly fitting tuxedo to Grover in a wedding dress. But similar to the redcaps, that experience barely prepared him for the strange shapes of those present. There were only a few beings in this bar but each had the oddness of over fifty humans.

There was an old man less than two feet tall who was the bartender that wore a weathered and brown three-cornered hat along with a bright green waistcoat adorned with large shiny buttons. His cheeks were rosy, but his nose was an even brighter shade of red. There was a pipe hanging out of his lips.

There was a diminutive, stocky man sitting with a few other guys that looked very similar. He was covered from head to toe in a leather apron and goat-fur leggings. His skin was like the apron—leathery, cauterized, and cracked, as if it had be exposed to constant heat. They looked almost human, but there was something subtly off about them. Part of that was the faint layer of soot that clung to their skin like a fresh snowy powder. But mostly it was the way the main one seemed to talk, with a slow Texas drawl that was bordering on stereotypical. After all, the other **dwarfs** didn't sound so odd or cartoony.

There was a man with long greasy blonde hair and skin that looked sickly pale wearing white battered armor with a large red Gothic cross painted on the chest plate. He was sitting at a table by himself, behind an empty table. This man seemed to be conversing with himself, speaking in hushed, mumbled tones as if talking to others. There was shield and helmet with a similar paint job to his armor next to the many empty glasses in front of him. But what drew the eye more was the pair of massive feathered wings coming out of his back, with the feathers looking like the dreary white-grey of old seagull feathers.

Everyone, even Zoë, found themselves staring at the winged man drinking some beer. Here, in a shitty bar like this, was proof of something none of them had ever considered. It wasn't every day you met an **angel**.

Percy Jackson stared the hardest of all, remembering some words that Chiron had once told him; on the very day where he learned that the Greek myths were not myths, when he asked about the existence of God.

" _Well, now, God—capital_ **G** _, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."_

Looking at the cross-bearing being, the Greek demigod thought that now would have been a great time to deal with the metaphysical!

As difficult as it was, he ripped his eyes away from the angel, and moved on. When he had a look at the next being in the bar, he wished he had remained focused on the angel.

There was a dark blob of a man, a vaguely human outline cast in amorphous crude oil, who wore an old, long black coat and a wide-rimmed, weathered fedora hat. His misty, insubstantial legs dangled over the side of the barrel he sat on. The space around him seemed to be darkened; his mere presence was filling the nooks and crannies around him with puddles of night and murky cold. He was smoking a cigarette, its bright orange cherry searing the absolute darkness surrounding his otherwise featureless face, save for his bright eyes, which couldn't be missed. The black smoke wasn't as dark as him.

But it was the final being present that drew the most attention, despite being the most normal. He was large and ominous looking. Even sitting at the bar, the teenagers could tell he was tall, probably over seven feet tall. And he was a mass of copper tan skin and solid muscle. His jaw looked like it was craved from concrete, chiseled with scars. His hair was long and black, pulled back into a ponytail high atop the back of his head. The clothes he wore were a simple pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and a leather motorcycle jacket. But he still looked somehow odder, somehow grander, than the rest of those present. There was something about his posture and overall demeanor that reminded Percy of Dionysus. It might have been the raw power rippling and undulating underneath his intimidating form that could ravish and change the very fabric of reality itself, as the Wine God could unravel minds. But unlike Mr. D, he seemed content…and drunk.

"Hmmmm…uh, Colby," The giant man with the ponytail said, with a bold voice, large and resonant, that had the lofty confidence and effortless eloquence of a skilled and experienced stage actor, "who the hell are these guys…and do they belong here?"

Despite there being a hint of good humor in the rumbling voice from the one in the motorcycle jacket, the teens still felt on edge, fearing that at any second their might be a fight. The air felt like it was full of dynamite.

Colby simply smirked and said causally, "They're demigods."

"Excellent! Hahahahaha!"

In less than a second, all of that tension deflated like a balloon. Everyone laughed and cheered, though some of them sounding more mocking than others.

"Well, that certainly makes them cursed and damned enough!" The tiny bartender said, "Come on in! Have a seat! It's been years since I've gotten any new costumers."

"Don't be tempting the young ones, Old Scarps," Colby scolded with a faint smile.

Percy looked at those behind him, only to have them shrug their shoulders. They were just as clueless as he was. With millions of questions buzzing in their brains like bees, they wordlessly followed Colby to a nearby round table and each had a seat. There were eight seats. Colby sat at the chair the most directly at the northern side of the wooden circle. The quest of five each sat at a seat aside from the ones to either side of Colby. Percy sat the closet to the redhead apart from the seat right next to him on his right side, and Thalia did the same on his left. Grover sat next to Percy. Bianca sat next to Grover. Zoë sat between Thalia and Bianca. No one dared say a single word.

"So, before we begin," Colby said, breaking the silence, "I think it'd be good to know what to call all of you. You already know my name is Colby. **Colby Stevens** , if you want my full name. But what about you? What are your names?"

That made everyone pause. Names weren't something to be given out willy-nilly. Names held power. And someone knowing your name could bring you all kinds of misery. However, everyone at the table felt like it was only fitting to do so, since Colby had saved their lives. Feeling a little uneasy, everyone else at the table told the stranger his or her name. Offering up that information didn't make the conversation go any smoother.

However, another voice started to make its way towards the table. "Cats got your tongues, laddies?" someone called out. The teenagers looked down and noticed Old Scarps approaching them, with a tray containing five small filled shot-glasses. "Here, this always helps loosing up the tongue. And don't worry; it's on the house!"

"You never charge anything for these drinks, Scarps." Colby stated.

"Would you prefer if I did?"

"Fuck no!"

"Then keep your mouth shut!"

"Fair enough," The redheaded human said as he gently gestured by raising his fingers upward. As he did so, the five shot glasses floated off the tray and landed on the table. As he passed out the glasses, the group of five stared wide-eyed, marveling at the impressive feat he did nonchalantly. They had never seen anyone outside of an Olympian do such wondrous, causal magic. Once he was done passing them out, he added, "Would anyone like to have a drink? I know you're teens, but worry, no one will rat on you." He laughed.

The majority of the teenagers just stared at their glasses like they were baskets filled with cobras. Only two of them regarded the alcohol with another kind of look. One of those teens was Percy, who was more curious than concerned. He wondered what it tasted like. Going against his mother's worries, he raised the shot glass and looked at the liquid. Acting before he could stop himself, he gulped down the whole drink in a second. Percy imagined an instant reaction, but he was pleased to see that there wasn't an immediate effect. There was nothing unpleasant at work. He felt pretty good about himself that he—

Suddenly, the son of Poseidon coughed violently, and within the first respiratory flex the drink blasted out of his mouth and nose at the same time! It covered the table in front of him. Grover, who had been sitting the closest to him, recoiled in surprise, as did everyone else to a lessor degree. For a moment, no one within sight moved a muscle after that. Then, with no rhyme or reason to it, everyone sans Percy started to laugh their assess off.

The male demigod wished he could vanish from existence as his face became ruby red. His throat was on fire, but that was infinitely preferable to what his nostrils felt like. Every breath he took through his nose reeked of the burning stench of alcohol. He feared that he would be like this for hours. At that moment, he swore to never drink again. "Gods," he shouted as he kept coughing like he was exorcising a lung, "It tastes like gasoline!" he pounded on his chest a little bit. "Why do people drink this stuff!?"

"Oh man! That was priceless! I don't know who you are, kid, but you just made my night! Ha, ha!" Old Scarps said after laughing like a hyena as he appeared with a rag and a big smile. As he jumped onto the empty seat and started to clean off the table, the **clurichaun** noticed Percy's expression of embarrassment. "Ah, don't sweat it, kid. No one's first drink goes well. Just look at Colby over here. He did the same exactly thing at his first drink. In fact, he was probably about your age when he did it too."

"Why do you have to bring that up?" The ginger-haired young man asked with a groan.

"Because it was the funniest damn thing I've ever seen!" The little fairy said, chuckling as he remembered the past episode. "Even after who knows how many years of servicing every matter of freak and monster from the Limestone Kingdom, that still sticks out in my mind." After he cleaned off the table, he placed the tray back on the table, this time with a much larger empty glass on it. He then added, "If anyone doesn't want theirs, just put it in the glass here. I could use a little pick me up."

One by one those at the table placed their shot glasses on the tray. But before Old Scarps took take it away, someone else grabbed the tray. Zoë took all of the shot glasses, drained them into the empty mug, and then swallowed the combined liquor with no hesitation. Everyone expected that she would go through a similar reaction as Percy. But instead she only uttered one cough after doing so. Everyone looked at the teenager in absolute shock. "What?" she asked, "I've been a hunter of Artemis since ancient times; so are ye truly surprised that I am familiar with strong drink?" By this point, she was smirking proudly.

Everyone shared a good laugh at that, even Percy, who was fighting through the further awkwardness of being shown up by a girl in such a traditionally manly activity.

As Old Scarps left, he muttered with a grin, "I think I like these kids! Ha ha!"

In the little man's wake, the air did feel a little lighter; things weren't quite as tense. Acting on that, Percy asked, "Say…uh, Colby…those things outside mentioned the Limestone Kingdom too. What exactly is that?"

"The Limestone Kingdom is a wild place far from the hustle and bustle of Austin," Colby said.

"A wild place!?" Grover asked sounding way more excited than he should have, hoping that he had found a fresh lead in his never-ending quest to find the lost wild god Pan.

"Uh…yeah…a wild place. Anyway, it's a collection of fairies and other supernatural creatures from miles around in every direction that's the main force around here, whose decrees are sacred law. Try thinking of it as a much smaller scale Mt. Olympus, with the fairy council replacing Zeus. It's a dwelling place for things here hiding behind the Veil."

"The Veil?" Percy asked.

"The thin gossamer web that muddles the vision of mortals and keeps them from seeing all of the freaky stuff that's around them everyday."

"Oh! I know what that is. But, uh…we call it the Mist."

"A rose by any other name."

As much as Percy wanted to ask what the hell that meant, he had a bigger question to ask. "So, this Limestone Kingdom is full of fairies?"

"Yes."

"But…why is that a big deal? Aren't fairies, like, I dunno, weak and a bunch of goody-two-shoes, or something?"

Colby stared at the demigod for what felt like eons. The look in his eyes was cold. With every new second that ticked by, Percy Jackson felt more and more terrified. He still didn't know this stranger very well, and he was seriously afraid he somehow messed up. This guy's face was impossible to read, his emotions were as unknown as his thoughts. Percy still didn't know what the deal with this guy was but given the way those redcaps reacted he could reasonably assume that this frail looking man wasn't someone you wanted to anger. As the son of Poseidon started to squirm in his uncomfortable wooden seat, the twenty-one year old finally said, "Let me guess, when you all think of fairies, you think of them as cute and fun little creatures, as something like Tinkerbelle, right?"

Everyone nodded yes, though Percy felt a little embarrassed about admitting that. It just sounded too girly. The same applied to the very word _"fairy"_ itself.

"That damn mouse," Colby said while moving his head back and forth, "Disney has done more to harm people than any neglectful parent or serial killer could ever dream of. People have forgotten all of the bad things they do, the evil some of them are capable of."

"Evil?" Percy asked with a raised eyebrow, trying hard to picture an evil Tinkerbelle.

"Yes," Colby said, "in fact, as a example, remember those redcaps outside? Those are fairies." He waited for a few seconds, no doubt imagining the jarring contrast between those foul beasts and the adorable little nymphs portrayed on vibrant animated screens. "But let's back it up for a few seconds. Fairies are not so much a specific **type** of creature, as they are a **class** of creatures. Like how lions and rabbits are both mammals but otherwise they have very little in common. Fairies are like people to a certain degree, they each have a job, a purpose in life. Some are truly benevolent, only wanting to help out those who they come across, while others are the foulest things you can think of."

"How can you tell the difference?"

"After a while you just figure out which are which. Some you can tell right away. Others are much sneakier. But that doesn't mean it's always easy to do so, even with experience. Either way, they don't possess free will or emotions in the same way it applies to people. Their free wills are tied to illogical behaviors and needs that have a purpose unknown to them. And they feel emotion only to serve one end, to feed. Like a human with a rumble in its belly to alert him to the need for food, they may feel love, jealously, or even anger. It is entirely feasible that they truly believe they feel the emotions they experience, but they don't. Their appetites define them. At the end of the day, to many of the different kinds of fey, people are food, dinner, and nothing more. The soils of many forests and other wild places are littered with the bones of people who thought otherwise," Colby stopped, to observe the reactions of those around him. They frankly looked shocked. He could sympathize with that, remembering how overwhelming this information first was and how it took a while to know all of it. Feeling a little sorry for them, he added, "But that's not what all fairies are like. Only the **unseelie** ones…uh, it means 'bad fairies'."

"Un-ceiling?" Percy asked confused by the odd word, certain that Colby made it up.

"No. Unseelie. UN-SEE-LEE. Unseelie. No ling. Un-see-lee."

"Oh, unseelie."

"Exactly, Colby said, "While not all fairies are innately and intentionally evil, many are. For example, there are fairies, called **Bubers** , which will suck out your soul and then possess your emptied body. Others, called **Nixies** , will act like they love you before drowning you. And another kind, called **Erl Kings** , or Elf King's Daughters, will either dance with you before killing you, or they'll kill you for not dancing with them. Oh, and some aren't intentionally evil but they still aren't exactly good for people either. There is one kind of fairy called a **Aufhocker** , that will jump on your back and ride you like a horse until you die from sheer exhaustion, seeing it as nothing but a innocent joke."

A silence briefly hung in the air after hearing that. Suddenly, the idea of an evil Tinkerbelle wasn't that hard to imagine. For the first ever, fairies sounded scary. More than that, they sounded insane, and cruel. Percy was so caught up in that revelation that it eclipsed his confusion over those fairy names that sounded as made up as unseelie.

"So," Colby asked, ending the silence, getting to a question he had been eager to ask, "what happened between you and those redheaded bastards, anyway?"

The demigods and satyr recounted their experiences in Austin, running into the redcaps, seeing a slaughtered family, running from them, managing to cut their numbers by half.

"Oh," Colby said gravely. "Oh, this is bad."

"Why?" Percy asked, suddenly feeling way more on edge if this guy was unnerved.

"Killing a fairy is one of the surefire ways to get yourself killed in Austin."

"Hey! They killed an innocent family! They came after us!"

"Doesn't matter. They'll be back for blood, in force. Its one of the features of fairy kind."

"What do you mean?"

"Fairies are creatures of pure emotion. When they love, they love wholeheartedly. What they hate, they hate ceaselessly. These are not creatures that do anything in half measure. For them it is all or it is nothing at all. They have a complete and total lack of self-awareness. Fairies care little for nuance. They are entirely bound to diets or behaviors that they can't fully understand or explain. Middle grounds and grey areas are things of the human world. It is what makes people so hard for them to understand, and vice versa. It's honestly almost as big a divide as the Veil, uh, the Mist itself."

"So there's no reasoning with them?"

"I didn't say that. They can be reasoned with. Reason is just not what I would call their default setting. But still, there are some matters that no amount of reason can sway them on. Like when someone kills one of their own, regardless of the motive or the context. Killing one would be bad enough. But killing half-a-dozen," Colby shook his head heavily. "Let me ask, are planning on being in town long?"

The demigods revealed that they were hoping to not be in town for more than a few hours. They spoke of how Apollo himself would be teleporting them out.

"Okay, good," Colby said with a nod of his head, "If you were staying in town overnight I would beg you to just get out of dodge. I'm sure you're all powerful but you would be overwhelmed. The Limestone Kingdom is full of powerful fairies, witches, and spirits of all kinds, some of whom could mop the floor with even the mightiest demigods."

"And that honestly just begs a larger question," Thalia said, taking command of the conversation, "How the Hades are their any creatures outside of the gods!?"

"You think the Olympians and Titans and the crotch stains of Typhon are all there is? Do you think that somehow the myths and fables of that one culture were somehow totally correct while all the others were pure bullshit?" Colby asked with a raised eyebrow.

Everyone else at the table stared at each other in silence. While they did think that, there was something about the certainty of Colby's tone by made that notion sound absurd.

"Typical demigod arrogance," The twenty-one year old said while shaking his head. "Believe it or not, there are forces of the supernatural outside of Greek mythology. There are creatures and spirits of equal power that don't have any origin or investment with the gods of Greece. The recaps you saw, mighty and not instantly destroyed by celestial bronze, are proof of that. But that's merely the beginning of the truth, the tip of the iceberg. In fact, there are entire pantheons of other gods; that hold just as much sway in the world! While you placate to your grossly overpowered Olympian parents and the House of Life keeps the Egyptian gods in check, the Aborigines of Australia sing **songlines** that speak of giant rainbow-colored dragons dreaming the world into being, the floods at the end of the Ice Age, and volcanic eruptions 25,000 years old they learned from their fathers, with a trail that leads all the way back to the people who were there!"

Everyone sitting at the table looked at Colby, now quite sure he was absolutely bonkers. They all felt like they could finally disagree with this guy, and that felt oddly refreshing.

"Uh… Zoë?" Bianca asked, hoping to get answers from the one person who might know, "Have you heard anything about this House of Life or this dreaming rainbow thing?"

"No, such knowledge is unknown to thee. Thy master has never spoke of any of it. And her hunters have traveled all over the world with her for thousands of years."

"That's because the Greek gods have a very strict policy about interacting with those forces outside of themselves as little as possible," Colby retorted, "Why would they? It would just sully the convenient narrative of their only being them; make it harder to convince people to follow them and only them. That's honestly why you've probably never seen a fairy before tonight. New York City is a fairy dead zone, because any fairy that goes there is killed. It would be like a shrew walking into the lair of a pride of lions. Besides, even ignoring that, I bet the gods would view those other creatures as unworthy of acknowledgement, as things even lower to them than mortals and their own monsters."

The son of Poseidon pondered what he had just heard. It was a struggle between trusting Zoë or Colby. His desire to believe Zoë because it was more comforting clashed with his gut instinct that Colby was speaking the truth. Ever since he encountered those redcaps, he felt as if he was walking on dangerous new ground, which might shatter beneath him. He remembered back to the day he learned about the Greek gods existing in the modern world, and how that caused his understanding of the world to explode ten-fold. His mind still hadn't fully grasped all the implications of that reveal. And now, adding on top of that an entirely _**new**_ set of rules and beings, made him feel like it might happen again. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a similar reveal. He didn't want that. His head already hurt him enough! It would have been so tempting, and so smart, to just think that Colby was wrong or lying. But, as much as Percy hated to admit it, Colby's logic seemed sound given what he knew about the gods of Olympus. Plus, the occupants of this bar gave his theories credence. Even so, his face looked just as doubting as everyone else's.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Colby asked, as he lifted his glass and swirled it around. "I don't blame you, I guess. It is a pretty crazy idea to wrap your head around." He stared at the liquid churning in the held glass like it was a fortuneteller's crystal ball. "I have crawled through sweltering jungles and arid plans, uncharted mountains and fairy filled forests. I have trekked through the misery of Hades itself and enjoyed the splendor of Poseidon's game room miles underneath the waves," He spoke out loud seemingly mostly to himself, with his eyes never leaving his drink, as he took a shot of whiskey.

"My dad has a game room!?" Percy shouted, feeling somewhere between confused, impressed, and deeply offended. Why did this guy get to enjoy his father's game room while he hadn't!? It took precedent of this person claiming to have seen the underworld.

"I have seen the creatures that man has created, and I, for one, don't ever want to see them again," Colby said, offering the outrage of Percy Jackson no attention or notice, with his voice effected by the strong drink, pinched and angry, slow and slurred, "They are not beasts and beings of their own; they are not things that merely exist because they do. Everything behind the Veil, everything from fairies to gods, are reflections of man cast back through a looking glass that dares not withhold a single secret or desire! They are all of man's evil and all of man's good, given material form by the power of dream itself and set loose like tiny turbulent storms to upset the delicate balance of men's lives!"

After that proclamation as impassioned as it was bizarre, Colby was oddly quiet. The demigods and satyr looked at each other for what felt like the millionth time that night. While the words were just as odd as the previous, this time they focused on the guy saying them. Percy had heard that people changed after getting drunk, in different ways. There were happy drunks, sad drunks, loopy drunks, and angry drunks. The only kind he had any personal experience with were angry drunks, thanks to his time with Smelly Gabe. But this Colby seemed to be another kind of drunk entirely, a philosophical drunk.

"But enough about the big picture and my drunken ramblings," Colby finally said, "Let's talk about you, and why you are here. So…what are you doing here? And how are the storms of Olympus aiming to upset the delicate balance? How have the gods fucked up?"

"Hey!" Percy shouted, finding his irritation and sense of offense reaching fever pitch, "The gods didn't do this! It was the Titans!"

"The Titans?" asked Colby with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't they supposed to be trapped in Tartarus or something?"

Percy and the other demigods looked gob smacked at this knowledgeable person's ignorance. "You-you don't know?" he asked.

"I'm assuming I don't."

"How can you not know about something this big!?"

"The gods don't feel the need to share information like that with us lowly mortals and monsters. Austin is as much a no man's land for the gods as New York City is for fairies. They never come here. How'd you expect us to learn about anything from Olympus?"

Percy was silent, admitting in his head that Colby had a good point. He felt he needed to explain the situation. But before doing so, he asked, "Do you know who Kronos is?"

"The Titans' ruler who castrated his dad and then went all Hannibal Lector on his kids?"

"Uh…yeah."

"Then yes."

"Well…" Percy started, "he's been cut up in a million pieces **and** trapped in Tartarus ever since Zeus defeated him. But he's been slowly coming back together, reforming himself. He's still stuck there but his influence is growing stringer with every passing day. He's whispering into the dreams of unhappy half-bloods, turning them to his side. And he's bringing monsters and other enemies of the gods over to his side."

"And he wishes to free some of his Titan brethren to further his foul cause," Zoë added.

"I'm sure I can guess this but please humor me, to what end is Kronos working towards?"

"He wants to undermine Western Civilization, overthrow the gods, and rule everything," Percy stated.

"That's what I figured," Colby quipped. "But, and please pardon my ignorance here, but is that really such a bad thing?" Everyone at the table sans Colby looked like they had slapped in the face with a fish. The redheaded young man caught on to this and added, "I mean, the Titans' rule was a golden age for mankind, right? They make it sound a lot better than the way things currently are. Is that really something that should be opposed?"

There was silence for a moment, with everyone again looking at this stranger like he had sprouted a second head with five eyes that started to sing Mozart's operas in Mandarin.

"Are you kidding!?" Percy finally snapped, honestly feeling more confused than angry. "The myths only say 'cause that's what the Titans **wanted** you and everyone to think! I heard somewhere that it's the winners who write the history, and that was very true," The son of Poseidon continued to explain, while the talkative Colby just sat there and listened. "Everything you've heard about the Titans being good rulers is just propaganda. Someone I know who was way closer to that time than either of us said it was a dark time for people. The Titans were uncaring and power hungry, always fighting and backstabbing. All of that, trying to one up each other, without setting off kooky Kronos."

"Who told you this? Who is the guy who was 'way closer' to the Titan's Age?"

"Chiron, my teacher."

"The immortal centaur that trained heroes?"

"Yes. And he still is training them."

After that, there was once again no sound. Instead of a reply or a question, Colby answered with silence, as he stared at the demigod. His gaze was intense, but distant. Percy felt like a bacteria under a microscope, like every minor detail of his very soul was being probed and analyzed by this strange, mysterious man. He felt so uncomfortable. The stare he was enduring reminded Percy of Annabeth's, but infinitely more powerful. And sadly, Colby wasn't nearly as pretty as the Daughter of Athena was when doing so. For what felt like eons, the less than aesthetically appealing young adult just focused on Percy's face with a knowing, guarded look as strong as steel stretched across his face.

As he focused intently on the demigod, looking for any cracks in his façade that might hint at any deceptions or omissions, Colby ran over what this teenager had just told him. Since this kid was a demigod, he had every reason in the world to vilify the titans while putting the gods on a pedestal. But as he looked over every new nook and cranny, Colby found no tells of trickery. And if they existed, he would find them. Years of study and speaking to creatures better at deception than man had given him uncanny powers of perception bordering on mind reading. Two realizations spurred him towards his conclusion. Firstly, Yashar had told him of Chiron, and how he was honorable and honest. The centaur was one of the few Greek beings whose word meant something. Secondly, now that he thought about it, the idea of beings like the Titans being as good as the myths made them out to be seemed absurd, since they were the Olympians' parents.

Colby had little reason to believe Percy, but even less reason to not believe him.

"Okay, so having the Titans' ruling again would **not** be a good thing," The stubble-sporting young adult finally said more than asked.

"They had a habit of… **dinning** on people, or just randomly killing some of them for fun," Percy said, gulping down the horror of those notions, as the breaths passing through his nose still burned from the alcohol he had foolishly ingested. "The Titans are resurfacing, using allies among demigods, or monsters. And breaking out of Tartarus, and trying to revive Cronus. And if he is revived…" The demigod trailed off.

"The end of mankind, or at least the end of living comfortably, anyway," Colby finished. "So, how is he doing it?"

"Doing what?"

"You said that Kronos was swaying pissed off demigods to his side. How is he doing that? The Lord of the Titans never struck me as the soft-speaking type with a kind, reassuring face. Has he been taking night classes on having a more alluring presence? Or does he have someone more appealing helping him, or something?"

With some reluctance at knowing the strife it may kick up, Percy told Colby about Luke. He explained how Luke had turned on the gods because of the neglect Hermes had shown him, how he was determined to destroy Western Civilization under the service of Kronos, how he had tried to kill him and his friends multiple times, and how he was brainwashing other demigods to join him. The son of Poseidon tried his best to keep his explanation rational and objective but towards the end some of his anger towards Luke seeped through. He remembered the dream he had after he got back to Camp Half-Blood and was almost killed by Dionysus for speaking out of term. He remembered how Luke had tricked Annabeth, how she was in terrible danger right now…and Luke was responsible.

By the time he was almost done explaining, Percy looked at the others sitting at the table. Colby looked at him the same way he had before, like he was searching for any error or lie. Grover looked tense. Bianca looked uncomfortable. Zoë looked oddly smug, almost elated. Thalia looked angry, with a nasty frown as her eyes were dangerously bright.

"Luke is not a monster, Seaweed Brain!" Thalia snapped.

Similar to when the Daughter of Zeus called him that during the Capture the Flag event at camp, Percy felt something within him break. Anger flooded his vision and his thoughts. Unlike during their recent talk on Apollo's train, there was no timidity holding him back. "You're right," Percy said through gritted teeth, "he's worse than one."

"You don't know anything about him!" Thalia shouted back, "You don't know what he's been through!"

"Oh yeah, 'cause I'm sure there's a good reason for wanting to doom the entire world!" he shouted back, not letting up this time, "You might not want to admit it, Pinecone Face, but the Luke you knew is dead and gone! If we don't stop him, if we don't kill him, he's going to destroy everything and everyone we care about, including Annabeth!"

"We're not killing him!" The Daughter of Zeus roared, her face bitter and conflicted, the information that she had learned since returning to human form clashing with her memories of the son of Hermes and her ego.

"Then what are we suppose to do!? Bring him back to camp and tie him up until he goes 'Oh hey, guys, I'm real sorry for trying to kill you all but I'm really much better now'? If you have any better ideas, please share them!"

Before Thalia could respond, Zoë cut in, "Typical. I told ye that this Luke was bad news, Thalia. Leave it to a man to bring so much horror and despair."

"Hey!" Percy and Thalia snapped in unison, her because of Zoë rubbing the truth in her face and him because of her lumping all men in the same category as Luke.

"Perhaps we should save the group in-fighting for another time?" Colby calmly asked while the sounds of a chair being pushed against the dirty wooden floor filled the air.

The teens only now realized that Colby had walked off as they had been arguing. He had returned with a fresh drink in his hand, and a massive smirk on his gangly, freckled face. The young adult appeared to be repressing the urge to laugh his ass off at their schism. The unhidden amusement on this stranger's face ended the argument right then and there.

The twenty-one year old then traded in his grinning expression for a contemplative one. He started to tap his chin in thought, recalling some long forgotten piece of information. "Luke? Luke? That name sounds so familiar. But where…where…oh! I remember now!"

"Remember what?" asked Percy.

"This Luke guy. Does he have blue eyes, a sword made of two different kinds of metal, and wannabe male model looks that make you want to punch him in his smug face?"

"No!" Thalia shouted.

"Yes!" Percy shouted, at the same time.

"Ah, yes, that would fit the bill of that jackass from before," Colby muttered to himself.

Percy felt his blood freeze a bit. "W-what do you mean? What're you talking about?"

"Someone like that came by here once. About a six months ago actually, looking for me."

"For you!?" Percy proclaimed, as he realized that would place it at roughly the same time as when he and Annabeth saved Grover from the Cyclops Polyphemus, and when Chiron with his wild root-beer loving centaur relatives had saved Percy from Luke's blade.

"Yes. It seems that even despite my attempts at keeping my existence a secret, he found me," Colby answered before groaning, "As if I didn't have enough to be worried about already. I have always been looking over my shoulder ever since I saw past the Veil. Fairies and witches now have to share time with brooding teenage douchebags!"

"What happened?"

"Well…"

* * *

 **(Six months earlier)**

 _Three shadows approached the door of a house positioned on the east side of Austin. Two of them towered at eight feet tall, while the one in the middle was several feet shorter._

" _Can we eat this guy, boss?" One of the towering figures, a_ _Laistrygonian giant, asked. His red eyes flashed with desire as he licked his lips at the thought._

" _No!" Luke snapped. His voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp. "Kronos wants him alive. He believes that he'd be a great asset to our cause."_

" _Do you think that?" The other monster, also a Laistrygonian giant, asked._

" _Honestly, no. But if Kronos thinks he will be, then I'm inclined to believe him. After the set back with the Fleece, we're going to need more power, from unexpected places," Luke said before reaching the door to the house. "Now, knock on the door, giant."_

 _The giant did so, using a single massive fist that blasted the door into many pieces._

" _I said knock on the door," Luke grumbled, "Not knock the door down!"_

 _The Laistrygonian giant on his right merely shrugged his shoulders. Luke just glared at him as he and his two monster companions walked into the tiny house dull as dirt. As he looked around, his bright blue eyes flashed surprise and contempt. For the reputation that their target had, he was expecting more thrilling living quarters. Then, he focused on a feature of a room near the door. Someone sitting in an old wooden chair near the room's center. Colby was looking right at them, like he was waiting for their arrival. The only thing that slightly cheapened the intimidating nature of the scene was the collection of empty beer bottles littering the ground like stones made of glass and alcoholic residue._

" _That was a meticulously hand-crafted…magic repelling door," Colby said, irritated. He then inhaled deeply, crisply. "So, how can I help you?" He asked, artificially cheerful._

" _You must be the great Colby Stevens," Luke said, sporting his charismatic, likeable smile that had swayed many to his cause in the past._

" _S'uuup?"_

" _I've heard quite a lot about you."_

" _Oh, really?"_

" _The rouge magical mortal…who has traveled the world and see many of its wonders and horrors, who was endowed with unheard of magical ability before he turned ten despite having no birthright from anything greater than mankind," Luke waxed grandly, turning the flattery up to eleven, appealing to Colby's ego, "Whom Australia's reclusive_ _ **Clever Men**_ _had trained in their mystic ways, seen and done things normally only opened to demigods. Who has such magical power that even monsters cower from his mere—"_

" _Oh, you dirty bitch, work the shaft!"_

 _Luke stopped dead in his tracks, cutting off his speech mid-sentence, profoundly confused. "Ex-excuse you…?"_

" _Oh, I'm sorry, I like to dirty talk when someone's," Colby started innocently, with a faint joyful chuckle, "sucking my dick." He ended bluntly, with no humor in his tone._

 _Luke's façade of pleasantness cracked considerably, but it did not break. Even so, he found his patience tested by this mortal's arrogance. To overcome that, he paused. "…Perhaps I should just skip to my point. My name is Luke Castellan."_

" _And I'm Carmen Sandiego. Guess where I am!" Colby retorted, with a drunken grin._

 _A fresh wave of anger flashed across Luke's face, just barely repressed by the young adult. Having to hold his tongue, he said, "Listen,_ _ **mortal**_ _," he spat the word "mortal" like it was a condition, "I'm here to offer you a chance to overthrow the gods of Olympus by siding with the Titans in—"_

" _Oh, the Titans! Why didn't you say so!?" Colby said, looking eager and taken aback, "In that case, fuck off!" He paused for a moment, to savor this stranger's enraged squirming._

" _I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you here…" Luke said, refusing to relent._

" _Oh, so am I, and I'm failing, and I'm sorry for that. It's just that I'm so agitated, because this blond little shit strolled into my house, destroyed my expensive custom made magic repelling door, and is trying to impress me like I'm his alcoholic father!" He paused, before adding more whimsically, "Be a sport and grab daddy another beer, would you?"_

 _Luke stood there, no longer looking conflicted, all of that seething rage no longer fought against. He had put up with all of this mortal's crap, but he crossed the line with that drunken dad quip. "You know what…you're not worth trying to turn to our side."_

" _Oh darn, how will I ever go on!?" Colby snarked._

" _You won't," Luke answered as he drew his blade, Backbiter, half monster-killing celestial bronze and half mortal-killing steel. He was determined to use the steel half. The son of Hermes advanced towards Colby, who was still sitting in his chair. The steel end of the blade was against his throat. Up this close, Luke could smell the booze stench like it was overly applied deodorant. The two Laistrygonian giants followed him and stood on both sides of the chair, cutting off any possible means of escape for the sitting human._

 _Colby didn't change his expression. He didn't seem any more worried or tense. That annoyed Luke. "Look, kid, I'm sure you think you're top-shit…" the older men said with a dismissive sigh, "but please do yourself a favor and leave. As you can probably tell, I'm drunk. Few things are more dangerous than a cornered drunk man. If you go now, you'll be unharmed. I'll even overlook the damage your friend there did to my door."_

 _Luke scoffed. "Kid? We are probably the same age!" He said to the follow young man in his early twenties. "Besides, you've already dug your grave, and it's far too late to crawl your way back out now!" He spat as he brought his blade an inch closer to Colby's neck. "I've heard of your power but no matter how great it is…you are still just a mortal! To even think of associating with the likes of you makes my stomach writhe. Even at your very best, you are nothing compared to me! You are just a man, and I am a demigod!"_

 _There was a brief silence, as Colby registered what was just said. "Really?" He asked._

" _Really."_

" _Really?"_

" _Really!"_

" _REALLY?!"_

" _REALLY!"_

 _There was a tense stand off, with both of the humans staring at the other intensely. This lasted for over a minute. Then, Colby sighed again. "I am too drunk for this shit."_

" _That's too ba—" Luke started to say, before the two Laistrygonian giants exploded. Luke's scarred face flashed genuine surprise as two tall piles of dust suddenly formed. There was no warning, no flash of light or big boom. The closest to a warning that was given was a faint_ _ **puff**_ _sound, the sucking in of air. What had been sentient savagery before were now just hills of ash to be swept up and thrown away. Suddenly, far too late, did the bitter son of Hermes realize his fatal mistake…he underestimated Colby Stevens._

 _He didn't have time to worry about that, however, as just as quickly he knew only pain. His left arm seared with a pain the likes of which few mortals ever directly encountered. Luke shouted at the top of his lungs as his body stun and burned and coursed with pain. Looking at his left arm…he saw it wasn't there! Only a bloody, burnt stump remained._

 _Looking down at the floor, just in front of his stump, he saw a smoking mass of flesh and cloth. His left arm. Then, he looked at Colby, who was still sitting in that chair, with his left arm raised and his palm facing him. It was hard to make out, but there was a faint glimmer, a small crackle of energy that snaked around the flesh riddled with palm lines._

 _The look on Colby's less than amazing face was packed with smugness, and satisfaction. "Come on!" he gloated, savoring Luke's reversal from confident to crapping himself, "You were talking all of that good shit a second ago, then I blew your fucking arm off!"_

" _But, I…you…what the fuck?!" Luke stuttered as his body quaked and quivered in terror, scared out of his mind, all of his bravado and charm thrown out the window. Though his right hand still held Backbiter, Luke felt utterly defenseless missing his left arm._

" _What's wrong,_ _ **demigod**_ _?" Colby mocked, saying "demigod" like it was a condition, feeling the best he had felt after a very crappy day, as he stood up. He was sporting a massive smile, looking like he was very eager to finish the job he had started. "Just grow back your arm! Summon up your monsters! Hit me! FIGHT ME! ...Give me a hug!"_

 _Again, there was a silent stand off between Colby and Luke._

 _But after a moment's hesitation, Luke ran out through the wrecked door into the night. His feet scattered the piles of ash that had been his monstrous bodyguards. The fact that his left arm still smoldered on Colby's floor proved how good a job they had done._

* * *

 **And that's the second chapter of this story! As always, I hope you all liked it! :)**

 **Don't worry, all of those described characters who go to "The Cursed and the Damned" will be getting more screen time in the next chapter! In fact, one or two other characters from Cargill's books will be joining them.**

 **So, while they haven't done much yet, you've gotten glimpses of most of the characters from Cargill's books that will have important roles in this story! Tell me, which ones seen are you the most curious about: the fairy bartender, the drunken angel, the living shadow in a trench coat, or the giant man with a ponytail?**

 **By the way, for those who were curious, Old Scraps is actually a clurichaun. This is an Irish fairy that resembles the leprechaun. But unlike those more familiar fairies, these kind are sully and always drunk! Lol. But if you treat them good, they will treat you good.**

 **And on that note, let me ask, do you think I conveyed some of the basics of Colby's world well enough in this chapter? Did you all understand what was said there? I ask because I'm always worried that exposition scenes like those don't always work. What are your thoughts on fairies as described here? I ask in part because we'll be seeing a few of the kinds listed in this story! ;) Also, what are your thoughts on Colby knowing of the House of Life and how he's been to Poseidon's game room? Lol.**

 **Moving on, you know that bit about Percy's experiences with alcohol? Well, that same exact thing happened to me one night! Lol. And yes, my friends who I had been drinking with never let me forget. But to be honest, in their place, I'd do the same thing. Just thought that would be worth pointing out.**

 **And, finally, let's talk about that flashback scene! Now, I'm sure some of you will notice that this scene is VERY similar to a scene from a fairly popular Internet video. Well, to be more accurate, an abridged series episode. To be even more accurate, the second episode of TeamFourStar's "Hellsing Ultimate Abridged"! If you haven't seen this series…YOU MUST! Its honestly one of the funniest things I've ever seen! :) Some might complain about me using most of the dialogue from one particularly famous scene of this series in this flashback, but in Alucard's own words from that very same episode, "...I'm not apologizing." Lol.**

 **Okay, enough of that! That's all I've got to say until the next chapter comes out! Given that most of the next chapter is done, hopefully it won't take too long to finish. But we'll have to see.**

 **In the meantime,** **please read, review, favor, follow, and spread the word! :)**


	3. The Cursed and the Damned Part 2

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone! I'm SO happy to see that more people are checking out this story! Seriously, every new people reading, favoring, following, or reviewing this story is a massive blessing. And all of those who do have my sincerest thanks! :)**

 **But enough about that, let's move onto the next chapter! There are some GREAT things that I love in this chapter. And I kind of hope that others agree! Lol. Decide for yourself as you read this chapter.**

 **Before beginning, I want to give a MASSIVE shout out to the writer "** **Vanessa Masters"! She has been invaluable to me as I've been writing these chapters. Some of her ideas and even some of the suggested dialogue she sent me ended up in here! You have my deepest thanks for your continued interest and help, Vanessa! :)**

 **Here's the third chapter of "The Demigod and the Damned": The Cursed and the Damned Part 2**

* * *

No one had said a word since Colby finished recounting his encounter with Luke. Naturally, more so than ever, the majority of the demigods didn't believe what this stranger was saying. The idea of a mortal destroying two monsters on a whim and maiming a demigod was simply too crazy an idea to be taken seriously. Besides, they had no idea how Colby would have done this. His account said nothing about any weapons being used by him. How could he have destroyed two monsters and cut off Luke's left arm without any? More than anything, they chalked up that story to the copious amounts of alcohol this guy had likely consumed this night. The stench was impossible to ignore.

Despite that, however, Percy Jackson looked at Colby with a different kind of emotion. Rather than being skeptical, he was pleased. For the first time, he thought of the stranger as badass! Giving his current intense hatred of Luke, the son of Poseidon savored the idea of the son of Hermes being scared and harmed. He knew that this dark surge of emotion would pass, but right now he ignored that.

"I'll tell ya, kids…you all might be damned bastards by birth, but me," Colby said, ending the silence, with a smirk and a hint of sardonic humor as he raised his glass, "I'm a self-made man!" He giggled and chortled as he drank his beer.

As offended as the teenagers were by the joke, they were honestly more confused by it.

"What do you mean?" Percy asked.

"What he means," a voice called out from the bar, before instantaneously finding itself coming from the empty seat next to the male demigod as it filled with coldness and shadow, causing the son of Poseidon to recoil and have to repress a scream and pulling out Riptide, "is that while you kids were damned to a shitty life by your parents being gods, because of forces beyond your control, little old Colby here **chose** to be in this shitty life. He's just a mortal man…but he damned himself, totally of his own volition."

"Please, Bill, don't hold back. Don't spare my feelings," Colby groaned sarcastically.

"As you wish," The shadow in a jacket and fedora hat said, just as sarcastically.

"Bill?" Thalia asked disbelieving, "You're a literal living shadow and your name is Bill?"

"What's wrong with Bill? It's a perfectly fine name. Better than a rarity like ' _Thalia'_. Tell me, how many times a day do people mispronounce it?"

The two beings, one with eyes like a storm and other with the stare of the shadows, glared at each other from across the table, each mildly offended by the others remarks.

"Can we please get back on topic?" Colby asked, knowing there was a lot to explain.

"Fine," they grumbled in unison. A brief silence followed.

"So, uh, Colby," Percy said, taking the chance to ask the main question that had been burning his tongue, "what exactly **are** you? Are you a demigod or something?"

The twenty-one year old stared at the fourteen year old, unsure how to answer that. Eventually, after many silent debates within his head, Colby shrugged and answered, "I don't really know what I am, exactly. I know for a fact I'm not a demigod, though. There isn't a drop of Olympian blood in my veins. As far as what I truly am…uh, **wizard** might be a good way to explain it, I guess. That's what I **wished** for and this is what I got."

Everyone looked flabbergasted at that explanation. Grover was shaking a little bit, fearing that this magician would have a bullying, celery-stealing bunny up his sleeve. But the satyr's fear for once wasn't the strongest among those there. That honor belonged to Percy, who still remembered his last experience with a magic-using human, Circe, and that was an encounter he would prefer to forget. Every once and a while he still had nightmares of staring into her enormous and horribly beautiful face while a guinea pig in her hand. But then, amid that old terror, a new question about what he just heard emerged quite clearly. "W-wish?" he asked, not fully believing the idea forming in his head.

"Yup," Colby replied nonchalantly, despite everyone's expressions at the table sans Bill's mirroring Percy's, ones of wide eyes, opened mouths, and vacant stares of disbelief. "Well, to be accurate, that was the second wish I made. Before that wish, I was just a tourist in the supernatural."

"What do you mean?"

"My first wish was to see the world. All the magical things there were."

"So you just wanted to see monsters?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Colby said shrugging. Then he noticed everyone's stares and how they had changed. Whereas before they had been ' _wow, I can't believe it! This is amazing!_ ' now they were more like _'wow, I can't believe it! This is stupid!'_ Whether that was real or not, the wizard offered, "I was eight. It seemed like a cool idea at the time."

"Assuming for a moment that we believe you," Thalia said, with a raised eyebrow and guarded expression, clearly not trusting this idea, "how exactly did you get either of these supposed **wishes**?" She asked with the word _"wishes"_ like it was a tart fruit in her mouth.

"That would be me," Another voice called out from the bar, though thankfully this one came with a physical body that had to walk its way over to the table. It belonged to the muscular giant with the leather jacket and the ponytail. His size and stature were slightly less intimidating as he drunkenly rose to his feet. He staggered across the floor, tripping over imaginary objects, struggling with gravity like a character in a Buster Keaton routine. Eventually, he made it over to the table and sat, with difficulty, in the last empty chair. As he did so, the nearby air filled with a unique scent. The best way to describe it would be a fusion of brimstone and gazelle musk. It made Percy's nose burn even more. "I am the one who granted his wishes," he said. "I am **Yashar** , and I am a **djinn**."

"Like the card game?" Percy asked.

Colby, who had been drinking another glass of beer, did a spit-take, sending alcohol everywhere in front of him, while laughing his ass off. Eventually, he stopped laughing. "Oh, man that was good!" he exclaimed, still coming down off the mild euphoria. He then noticed everyone aside from Yashar looking at him oddly, even Bill. "Uh…I said the same exact thing. But I was only eight years old."

At that knowledge, everyone but Percy had a little chuckle. The male demigod's face got red and a part of him wished he could disappear with Annabeth's invisibility cap.

"No, no, young man," Yashar said to the son of Poseidon, with a drunken but genuinely pleased smile, "Like a **genie**."

"You mean like _Aladdin_? With the bottle and the three wishes, and everything?"

Yashar cocked an eyebrow at Percy, displeased but not altogether surprised. Even in his drunken state, every last bit of mirth and pretense was lost. "Every goddamn time," he groaned. "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I'd have my great riches back!"

"What?" He asked, not understanding what the big deal was. "All I was asking is where your bottle—?"

"Quit it with the bottle stuff, kid!" Yashar barked, surprising everyone with his bitter tone. Then his voice softened, closer to its pervious pitch, as he added, "It's insulting."

"What?" the demigod asked again, confused.

"It hurts my feelings," the genie said, with a tone so somber that the others at the table could feel the despair emitted from them.

"Why?"

"Because," Colby interjected, and Yashar looked over at him very thankfully for doing so, "despite what Disney and Barbara Eden have told you, lamps are serious business. They are only thing jnoun, the plural for djinn, truly fear…aside from salt, of course."

"Salt?" Percy asked with his skepticism at its most pronounced.

"Yeah, salt," Colby answered, with complete conviction, as Yahsar shuttered, "But while salt causes them intense physical pain, it can't kill them. Not like lamps and bottles can."

"How?"

"Djinn are creatures of energy, that cannot be killed in any conventional manner. You could stab them, burn them, blow them up, poison them…and they'll mostly walk it off. I'd wager even the gods couldn't kill one."

"But I'd rather not want to find out," Yashar commented.

"The only way for one to die is for them to fade away when completely forgotten," Colby added, ignoring the genie's comment.

"Why would that matter?" Percy asked.

"Djinn feed off memory—they are inexplicably bound to it. As long as someone remembers them specifically as an individual, and most importantly as a djinn, they live."

"Seriously!?"

"Yup, but it has its pluses and its minuses to it. As long as a djinn keeps himself out of trouble and people remember him, they can theoretically live forever. But at the same time, if everyone who knew them dies, they begin to starve and will eventually perish."

"Okay…" Percy said in an elongated way, struggling to grasp all of this information, "But how does that relate back to bottles?"

"Well, djinn are impossible to kill outright, but they can still be killed if you know how. They can be imprisoned in magically sealed bottles or lamps. Despite what you might have been told, they can't stay trapped for ten thousand years and be okay as long as someone lets them out. A djinn can't be killed, but the people who remembered him can, and do, die. And stories can be forgotten or erased from existence. If everyone who knew of the djinn dies and their names are no longer told in stories, the djinn fade away."

"Oh…wow…" Was all Percy could say as he suddenly realized the gravity of Yashar's situation. As cool as not being able to be killed by others sounded, having that linked to how popular you were didn't sound very appealing. He remembered back to his time in school, and how he was never a popular kid. If he had the same rules in life as Yashar, he feared that he would have vanished before he got to the fourth grade.

Then, out of nowhere, he had a thought. If this creature was actually a genie, he could grant wishes! Suddenly, all of the problems that the world had could be solved right now. They could stop Luke and stop the Titans! They could keep Kronos trapped in Tartarus! They could make it so he could never threaten the gods again! But even so, what Percy truly wanted was much smaller in scale, far more personal. He could save Annabeth!

"Yashar!" Percy bellowed out with as much faux authority as he could muster, with it sounding completely forced and farcical, "I wish for you to save A—!"

"Artemis!" Zoë shouted, cutting him off, "I wish for you to save—!"

"Stop right there!" Yashar roared, ending both attempts at speaking wishes. His eyes shined like infernos, and both of the teenagers suddenly felt very nervous and worried. "Not only am I offended as all fuck at you treating me like some wish-bitch you want to use like a tool, but your wishes would fall on deaf ears, anyway."

"Wha…but why?" Percy asked, taken off guard by the genie's anger and foul language.

"Because djinn can only grant wishes to one mortal at a time. Until the wish of the previous one is completed, they can't grant any new people wishes. Normally this wouldn't be a problem since most people only ask for something right away. But Colby's wish was to, and I quote, 'see everything supernatural' and he hasn't seen everything supernatural yet. I'm stuck with him and only him until I fulfill my end of the bargain," Yashar explained as he looked around the bar with renewed interest and a sad stare.

Given everything else that he had heard tonight, Percy assumed that this was all correct. However, there was something off about it. He couldn't quite pinpoint it but there was something about this that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was how Yashar seemed to suddenly refuse to make eye contact? The demigod sensed that this was either a partial lie or something important was omitted from the explanation. But he couldn't prove it.

Even so, Percy then noticed something else, the genuinely hurt look on Yashar's face. He suddenly realized that the genie probably had encountered that before, people who only wanted to use him as a wishing machine. As much as he hated to admit it, that was what he had done. Instead of seeing a living thing, he saw him as a tool, as a means to an end.

"Look…uh…Yashar," Percy began, while looking at the table, feeling like a real heel, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a jerk."

The genie looked at him for a few moments, as a look of gratitude formed on his cooper chiseled face. "Aw, don't sweat it, kids," Yashar said kindly with a soft smile and a hand wave, speaking to both teens even though only one of them apologized. "I can tell that your desires are noble. I'm actually touched that you care about them so much," he turned to Percy. "Especially you, young man, she must mean the world to you."

"Wha—what!?" Percy exclaimed, suddenly finding his face to be quite red and glowing. His heart pounded in his chest. "I-uh, I never said—her…um…h-ha-how—how—?"

"One of the things about djinn is that we can see a man's deepest desires…all of them." He winked.

The son of Poseidon felt like he was on fire as he wished he could enter Hades rather than deal with the awkwardness bubbling up within him. He prayed to his father for a distraction. And, whether it was the Sea God's will or not, it seemed to be answered.

"Of course you won't grant our wishes, because you can't, you scullion!" Zoë snapped, deeply disappointed and angry after thinking she could save her beloved goddess, and also greatly worried that a man was able to look at her deepest desires.

"I can prove it to you, without having to grant a wish, young one." Yashar said.

"Young?" The Hunter of Artemis scolded, "Thy art calling thee 'young'?"

"Yes, child, I am," said the djinn, with no sense of bitterness or disrespect in his stout voice, "I mean you no offense. But I have been around for literally thousands of years. I have memories of a time when Islamic sultans ruled over many lands in the Arabic world that were light-years ahead of Europe's medieval kingdoms."

The cooper-colored young woman looked at the towering man with a new sense of relish. "I was walking the earth **long** before Athens and Sparta repelled the Persians. So, do thy still believe that thee am 'young'?" Her face was smug, her brown eyes flashing victory.

Percy Jackson had no idea what either of them was taking about, about which of those things happened first or when it happened, but he got the gist of it by seeing the reaction.

Yashar stared down at the much smaller woman sitting with a look of utter disbelief. Much of the lofty bravado fled his face like rats fleeing a sinking ship. He was silent. He remained silent for several long moments. Then, he released an annoyed sigh and muttered, "At least I can talk like a modern person that can say 'you' and not 'thy'."

Now it was the loyal Hunter of Artemis who looked gob smacked, remembering her abysmal attempt to say the modern nomenclature at Camp Half-Blood, when _'your'_ had been mangled into _'yerrr'_. Thalia seemed to remember that too, as she started laughing while Zoë glared at her. "I think I like you, Yashar," the Daughter of Zeus smirked.

"Thank you, thank you," The drunken djinn said while bowing, at least bowing as much as he could while sitting down.

"Are you going to offer us proof or not!?" Zoë rebuked, desperate to move on from this.

"As you command…elderly maiden," Yashar added with a devious twinkle in his eyes. While Zoë glowered and Thalia laughed even harder, the genie stood up and took a few paces away from the table. He took a deep breath and then his big body started to change. Smoke started to billow off of him and his brown skin started to shine like the Gold Rush's mother load. The group of teenagers recoiled at the unexpected physical change. Yashar's already towering head started to climb higher as—

"Hey!" Old Scarps called out, unfazed, "What the fuck are you doing, Yashar!?"

"Proving that I'm a djinn," Yashar said calmly and casually, although there was thunderous boom to his voice now.

"Not in my place you're fucking not! Not unless you want to fix my fucking roof!"

Without saying a word, Yashar started to shift back to his previous form. The smoke vanished into nothing and his skin was again a dark olive. He was seven feet tall again. "Yeah, good point. Sorry, Scarps."

The tiny bartender groaned, "There are few things worse than a drunken djinn."

"Agreed," Bill muttered, not pleased at the magical light that had briefly flashed.

Ignoring the complaints of his colleagues, Yashar turned his attention back to the teens. "Sorry. I won't be able to fully prove I'm a djinn. But I can offer some smaller proof."

"What do you mean?" Thalia asked.

Without saying a word, Yashar started to change again. But this time, it was his clothing that was changing, not his body. With a few blurs of motion, his modern fashion was gone. The teenagers, even Zoë, couldn't believe what the towering figure wore instead. It was a brightly colored sash looping his waist, with a number of ornamental baubles, bells, and buttons completing the garish, almost cartoonish, outfit. They hung from chains and loops and short leather cords, each coated in bronze, silver, or gold, looking absurd. Percy Jackson couldn't help but imagine that the fashion obsessed kids of the Aphrodite cabin back at camp would have had a heart attack if they saw this train wreck of a outfit.

Pleased that he had proven his point, or at least that he got the teenagers to not question him anymore, Yashar's clothing returned to his modern outfit as he sat down again.

Colby eyed Yashar for a second. "Is that a new jacket?"

"Yeah," the genie answered, "You like it?"

"Why don't you always wear that fancy stuff, with the robes and all the gold doodads?"

At least half of the teens quipped an answer in their heads; because of how dumb it looked!

"I just wear that getup for the kids. It's all about appearances. Sometimes it takes a bit of a con to get someone pointed in the right direction," Yashar smiled, basking in his own cleverness. "I mean, honestly, would you make a wish to someone in this jacket?"

"I certainly wouldn't have held your hand."

"Touché." The wizard and the genie fist-bumped without having to make eye contact.

"I don't care what clothes you wear, I still don't believe any of this!" Zoë snapped.

Bill drank. "Believe it, kiddies. I saw the results of Colby's power firsthand."

"You?" The genie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You were in the Limestone Kingdom back then?" Colby asked, mimicking the gesture.

Naturally, Percy Jackson and the others had no idea what the trio was talking about. But he had a sinking suspicion that they were about to find out.

"Oh yeah. I was there the night you went all…" Bill finished the sentence with a whistle, as if to signify the word _crazy_. After a few seconds, he shook his shadowy head. "I'll tella, man…I've seen a whole lotta nasty things before…but you…I honestly never thought I'd see anything as bad as **the Wild Hunt** , but man…you proved me wrong."

There was a brief pause. The teens took note of this, mainly in how Bill seemed to tense up at the words _Wild Hunt_. They all could tell there was a lot more to that subject.

"Wait," a voice called up, with a thick, almost stereotypical Texan accent. Everyone turned to the nearest table, and saw the dwarf looking at them with keen interest. "Ya'll were there for that? When the boy 'ere disembodied a dozen fairies?"

"That's not how it happened, Mimring," Colby said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I was there." Bill said. He took another big drink from his glass. "Colby's right though. The legend doesn't live up to the memory."

"Thank you," The wizard said, looking grateful.

Bill continued. "It was worse."

"Oh, come on!"

"Oh, you should have seen it, Mimring," said Bill. "There we were—had to be at least a hundred of us—fairies, boggarts, and worse things—all standing around dumbfounded in front of this eight-year-old boy with his chest puffed out. It was surreal. First, Schafer, who had the bright idea to charge the kid backed up by a genie, just vanished—went _puff_! The mighty leader of the redcaps had been turned into a fruity little explosion of flower petals. With a thought, all of that hate and anger was nothing but roses and daffodils."

"WHAT!?" Percy shouted. "Y-you did that? You killed one of those monsters outside with a thought? You did that when you were eight!?" He asked in sheer disbelief with insanely wide eyes, turning to Colby. His looks of shock mirrored the other four teens. Grover looked especially perplexed, though with less fear that you would guess, wondering if this human had some special connection to nature, mainly to the god Pan.

The wizard looked oddly embarrassed, as he sheepishly nodded while meekly saying, "Yeah."

"Anyway," Bill said, sounding a little annoyed at being interrupted, "after that…nobody moved. A few redcaps got uppity, 'cuz, ya know, their leader was just killed in front of them. But Meinrad—he's the head honcho out there—he waves them off because he knows better. This kid means business. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, is shitting themselves. We've never seen anything like this. It was as if someone had walked into a crowd with a revolver—we knew that he could take out only a few of us before we tore him apart, but nobody wanted to be one of the six who could catch a bullet, you know?"

The group of five from Camp Half-Blood stared at Colby with renewed interest. This gaunt young man had inspired that kind of terror in creatures that were literally what nightmares were made of!? Percy thought that the fear of the redcaps outside made a lot more sense. If he had been in their position, he might have felt the same way. Again, Percy felt like his head was going to explode. There were too many reveals happening!

"So, how many did he vaporize?" Mimring asked with genuine interest.

"Just the one."

"Really? Because every time I hear that story, the number gets bigger."

"I told you," said Colby, "It didn't happen like that."

"But it did happen," Bill retorted. There was a brief pause as the shadow took a drink, finishing what was left in the glass, as golden amber slid down into murky darkness. "That was the night I decided to leave, you know. I've only gone back for the **Tithe**."

Suddenly, the wizard looked over at the boggart with new interest, and greater energy. "Wait, they still hold the Tithe!?"

"Of course they still hold the Tithe. Why wouldn't they?"

"Because I told them not to!" Colby said snappishly as he slammed his fists on the table. His eyes were cold and angry. They made even Zoë and Thalia feel concerned.

"No, you didn't. You just came to get your little boyfriend."

At that, all of the fire died in Colby's eyes. In fact, he seemed genuinely baffled. He appeared to be drifting off into thought. He had just assumed that they had stopped.

Percy Jackson looked at the four other teens present, and they all seemed as lost as he was. He was so tempted to ask what exactly this Tithe was, but his better instincts told him not to. If it could spur that kind of reaction out of someone who had recounted the horrible ways fairies kill people without flinching, he assumed it was stuff better off not known. Plus, this was the second time someone had mentioned someone else, a boy it seemed. The demigod was almost as curious about who this person was and what had occurred. Even so, he wanted to end this awkward silence. So, against his better judgment, he turned to Bill, "So…what Colby did…uh, that was why you left?"

Bill sighed, looking down at his glass, saddened by the lack of alcohol. "Not exactly, kid. Yeah, I left after Colby and Yashar…but I had been debating about doing that already. The Wild Hunt came the night before Colby did. I ducked into the shadows as they took off with most everyone I knew well, cutting them up right in front of me. They…they…" He paused, really wishing he had more beer. "Anyway, yeah, I left after that, kid. After that, the Limestone Kingdom went to shit. And I've been drinking here ever since."

"Wait, what is this Wild Hunt you keep mentioning?" Bianca asked, being unsure to direct the question at Zoë, who had been a hunter of Artemis for a long time, or Colby, who seemed to be the only human knowledgeable about anything that had been said.

Bill, Colby, and Yashar all looked at each other, their expressions clashing between disbelief and dread. "It is the single most terrifying thing we have ever encountered." Colby eventually answered, "Hopefully, you kids never have to experience it, ever. It is something that with its mere existence slaps in the face of any notion of fairness in life and that makes you deeply contemplate if there is any worth in struggling through life. All I'll say about it is that its proof positive of how little the gods actually care for people. It is a evil thing made up of the greatest hunters, and everyone, everyone is their prey."

There was a long silence as the teenagers absorbed what Colby had said, and admitted.

"The Hunters of Artemis are the greatest hunters!" Zoë shouted, offended.

After looking at her like she was crazy, Percy asked, "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" Colby asked.

"Keep making it sound like you hate the gods."

"Because I do hate the gods."

Percy looked like a bucket of cold water had been thrown onto his face. "W-what?"

"Yeah, you heard me. I might not be a genocidal dipshit like our mutual friend Luke, but that doesn't mean I'm really okay with how the Olympians have been running things. They are petty, cruel, and indifferent to anything that doesn't interest or benefit them."

There was a tense moment of stillness, as everyone looked like a bomb had exploded. What would happen next would be anyone's—

"Pan is not like that!" Grover shouted, deeply offended as his voice cracked with passion. Everyone, most of all Percy and Thalia, were shocked to see the timid satyr be the first one to act. "He is the one who made the blessings of Nature, and whose warmth flows in every living thing. He only seeks to allow every living thing to grow and thrive!"

"And my Lady Artemis has not a evil, cruel bone in her body! She has always protected the woods; it's creatures, women and children. Do you know that thousands of women are sold as slaves, even to this day?" Zoë said, getting hostilely impassioned in her words. "But my Lady saves many of them, and then has slain the foul men who did so! Some she returns home, those who have no home she grants eternal life among her Hunters."

"Look, my dad, Poseidon, is a god," Percy offered up, not as hostile as Zoë nor as impassioned as Grover, "and he's helped me out several times. He's been nothing but kind to me. He's not like Ares or Hades." Percy then paused, before switching gears. "Sure, the gods can be big jerks, but they usually mean well. They look out for the world, and keep everything running. If it weren't for the gods, the world would be in endless chaos. As long as you do right by them, they do right by you. Don't mock the gods, bud. They're just like people. Not all bad, and not all good."

Colby looked at the group around him for several long moments, analyzing all of them. His eyes focused on Bianca and Thalia, who hadn't said anything during the previous exchange. Bianca looked more or less lost, unfamiliar with any of what was being said. Thalia's reaction interested him more. She looked deeply conflicted, like she wanted to step in and defend her Olympian parent, with a part of her quite eager to, but some lingering doubts or resentments kept her from doing so. The wizard decided to leave Thalia alone, not wishing to make things more uncomfortable for the teenage girl. He would not do the same for those who attempted to defend those stationed on Olympus.

"Look…I'm not here to change your minds. I'm sure I'm just wasting my breath here. I'll admit you've raised a few decent points. But at the same time, I'm not going to pretend that I don't think the way I do. And your arguments have not swayed me. As unpleasant as it is for you, my opinions are mine. They are a part of me. They are honest. All I ask is that you hear me out. Then you can go back to ripping me a new asshole. Fair enough?" Colby asked, in a causal, banal way it caught the demigods off guard. They would've been more prepared for shouting or anger from the opinioned twenty-one year old.

The wizard waited a moment or two before beginning, turning to the veteran Hunter. "Zoë…I'm not going to deny that Artemis doesn't do some good things. But she's not as perfect as you make her out to be. If she were here right now, she'd hate the majority of the people in here because of the fact they have a penis. Despite their own merits, those wouldn't matter. They would be lessor because of that fact. Do I even have to point out the obvious problems with that line of thinking? I can point to literally dozens of examples of women being just as bad as men. Plus, from what I've read, she has had no qualms about killing men or turning them into animals, which will no doubt die horribly, for crimes as minor to a figure of such power as accidently gazing upon her when she was naked. That certainly seems like a cruel bone to me. Besides, favoring a previously oppressed side in a binary while actively belittling and oppressing the other is not balanced. Its just hatred and oppression from the other side."

Without waiting for Zoë's reaction, Colby turned to Grover, who looked a little worried. "Grover…your commitment to Pan is quite admirable. I happen to hold nature in a similarly high regard. I have been treated in ancient ways that taught me to respect nature. But, and I hate to be that guy, but I need to point out the obvious. If Pan cared so much…why'd he abandon us? Why has he made it so he has to be found at all?"

Mirroring his actions with Zoë, Colby moved on again, this time from Grover to Percy.

"Percy…just because Poseidon has been good to you, doesn't mean he's always that good. You've probably only seen him as his best, at his most trying to be appealing. You've never seen him when he's angry, when he's petty or vengeful. You've never seen his dark side, never seen any of his flaws that are abundant in the ancient legends. Can you imagine that he would be as warm if you weren't the kid of a woman he likes? Do you not see the naiveté in assuming he'd act with everyone in the way he acts with you?"

Percy didn't answer. His mind was reeling from the truths this stranger just laid out before him. He knew he wasn't as smart as some of the other demigods, but for the first time, he felt truly dumb for missing such an obvious point. But Colby wasn't done yet.

"And I think you're dead-wrong about the gods doing right by you if you do right by them. That's a human way of thinking. They don't think they need to be fair with you. They view you doing what they want as natural, as the only right thing to do. It's not based in any sense of gratitude, but what you're expected, required, to do. If they did truly value you, would they look down on you like an insect? I fear there will come a point in the future where even after you help them, they'll still consider destroying you."

A shroud of silence covered the table like a lead blanket. No one said a single word. The faces of the teens all looked conflicted; pained. The wizard, boggart, and djinn noticed.

"I get it, kids." Colby's voice was full of pity. "The gods are your family. You think they're good, or you at least think they are the best option. You want to make them proud. One of the things I've gleamed from the myths is that the gods are distant. That must make being their children hard. Believe me, I know how bad a distant parent is," he paused, and instantly everyone at the table sensed something deeper about that claim.

"But even so, your desire to help them because they're blood and their good deeds doesn't erase their bad ones. It doesn't wipe away all of the selfish, unpardonable things they do. You might not want to admit it, but the gods are not good. They are powerful, and that is all. You're acting like the gods' noble features are their only ones. You're intentionally ignoring their flaws. You're trying to pass them off as a dozen beings of pure goodness. I don't care how much you love them; no one is blind or dumb enough to think that. I'd wager you wouldn't feel so strongly if they weren't as strong.

"No matter how horrible or selfish a action is, if one of them does it, they get off scot-free, unless they happened to piss off a god who is more powerful than they are. And they never think of it as wrong. They, quite literally, view themselves as above morality. And they keep doing it. They never learn from their mistakes or try to improve themselves. We have no say in how they handle things. There is no way for mankind to resist them. More than anything in the world, I would just love for them to be accountable for their actions. I have just about had it with supernatural forces having free reign over humanity!" Colby continued, with a spike of anger entering his previously clinical tone.

After a moment's pause, he seemed to reclaim his bearing as he continued in a causal way, about to make his final argument. "Can you honestly tell me that the actions of the gods, not one god you happen to really like but all of the gods and goddesses as a group, have never, not once, made you question them, never made you believe that they were more harmful than helpful? If any of you can honestly say that, I'll take it all back."

Colby stopped talking, giving the demigods and satyr amble opportunity to challenge him. The group of five from Camp Half-Blood looked around the table for several solid minutes. Each pair of eyes was searching for someone who could make that bold claim. They were all disappointed to find none. None of them could make that claim honestly. For every god or goddess they liked, there was another and there actions they did not. Everyone looked to be in dower spirits because of this, none more so than Percy Jackson. Giving how much he hated Luke, he equally hated the idea of him being kind of right.

The son of Poseidon didn't want to venture down that rabbit hole, not knowing if he would emerge from it. So instead, he asked a new question, desperately hoping for a yes. "A-are their any gods that you like, Colby?"

"I'm assuming you are only speaking of the Greek gods, correct? Well, actually, yes, there is one or two I don't mind. But keep in mind; I've only met a few of them, briefly, mostly Hades and Poseidon, when I was a little kid. So I won't count those because of my inability to really judge them. Anyway, to answer the question…Athena. I always liked her. I always respect wisdom. Though I'll freely admit that I'm not super crazy about that whole Medusa business. But, being honest here, my favorite has always been Dionysus. God of Wine is best god!" Colby said as he raised a glass to the newest god. "How's he been doing anyway? Throwing wicked parties, drinking his weight in wine?"

Percy explained how Dionysus was the head counselor of Camp Half-Blood in New York, and how he'd been forbidden from drinking alcohol for one hundred years.

Colby looked like he had just learned someone had terminal cancer. "Truly, there are fates worse than death. Dionysus, I drink this in your honor!" He finished his beer.

"Here, here!" Everyone else in the bar said in unison, before making a toast, sans one.

"Bah!" the man, the angel, the one to not toast the Wine God, who sat at the table behind them suddenly barked, "Olympians…Titans…whata bunch of pussies!"

The heads of the bar's regulars slowly turned in the winged man's direction, unsurprised but curious. The five heads of the new customers also turned, but with great surprise. This was the first time since they arrived that the angel spoke up loud enough to be heard.

"What?" asked Old Scarps, "What the hell are you on about now, Bertrand?"

"They wouldn't know a real fight if it bit them in their idolatrous asses!" He grumbled through a slurred, drunken drawl as he eyed his drink and swirled it around in the glass a little bit. It sounded like he had had more drinks than Colby or Yashar. "Olympians, always moving between countries whenever one gets advanced enough, like a whore following the new rich guy! That's not the divine, that's not God! God's everywhere and nowhere, not engaging in unpunished debauchery on a fucking mountain or skyscraper!"

The demigod teens, already riled up from Colby's remarks, started to get bitter, defensive. They all looked at the armor-wearing being with crossed expressions.

"Olympians…the most fucking pathetic bunch of prideful pricks who have filled the coffers of humanity with several millennia of bad ideas and atrocities outside of Lucifer! Such petty little things, bratty kids playing grown-up while walking around with nukes, throwing H-bomb temper tantrums! Always fighting. Always happy to sell others out. They are worse than humans, almost as bad as demons, and yet they claim to be gods!

"The whole lot of them makes me sick! Dionysus unravels the minds of men. Demeter can only get off her flowery ass to do anything when fucking breakfast cereal is involved! Apollo acts like a goddamn college frat boy with a mind too drunk or high to be serious. Hades broods like an emo teenager in his parents' basement with the wife he kidnapped, doing nothing to strike at the _**true source**_ of all of life's infinite woes! Ares inspires the worst features of men, with millions upon millions of people having committed atrocities and sins of all sorts in his name, at his behest, or in opposition to his influence. Hestia rolls over like a bitch whenever a new god comes in. Hera is a huge fucking cunt who takes her **failures** as a wife out on helpless people seduced and birthed by her husband. And then there's Poseidon. He has the impudence to pretend that he's such a nice guy, but he always seems to forget all of the ships that are sunk, and all the people who die, in his domain. Oh, and you know he invented the horse, right? Any idea why? Because he needed to overcompensate by making the biggest fucking cocks in nature!"

The demigods and satyr started to fidget in their seats; their insides thriving like baskets of serpents. Their breathing became more strained, through flared nostril and grit teeth. While they had all hated Colby's words, they did have to admit that his criticisms of the gods seemed to be against them as a group and not as individuals. And they hadn't gotten the impression he was vindictive or bitter towards them. As much as they disliked what they heard, Colby had been fairly respectful. Bertrand didn't have the same saving grace.

"Oh, and don't even get me started on fucking Zeus! That perverted, hypocritical, egocentric, petulant, perpetual man-child who has the gall to call himself the ruler of the universe! His precious little "master bolt" is nothing but a limp and impotent firecracker compared to the mighty, girthful rods of lightning hurled by the true God almighty! He's such a damn pervert that he can't even knock up his targeted bitches in his human form. He fucks them as a bull, a goose, an eagle, a snake, a golden shower…as goddamn urine! Only God almighty knows how he manages to find all the attractive weirdoes to ravish. Better yet, only God knows why He hasn't just blasted those pussies off the map, like He use to do in the old days, leaving a giant glass pit where that eyesore Mt. Olympus stood!

"And then those so-called gods have the gall to mate with humans and have children! They take 'thou shall not commit adultery' and make it 'thou shall commit adultery whenever a hot enough and morally bankrupt enough whore walks by!' As if the world didn't have enough problems with all the demons and fairies running around. You know, some angels tried that once, and what did they get? A bunch of ugly giants! Only the one true God can get good kids from humans! Why should those depraved upstart pretenders get to have kids? But then again, all of those bitches and bastards always seem to get the shaft, so I can't get too pissed. All of those bastard children deserve what they get!"

That proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Thalia's eyes got dangerously bright. Blue sparks occasionally flickered along her Goth attire. Everyone started to wonder if Bertrand might be made into a lightning rod. Yashar stood up, looking worried. In one fluid motion fueled by her wrath, Thalia arose from her chair and drew her collapsible spear. She began to slowly walk her way across the bar with every new step faintly crackling. She had taken enough of this place's anti-god crap!

Bertrand's eyes flashed excitement, no doubt relishing in the chance to put something from Olympus in its place. He too arose from his seat, and drew his weapon. But it was something different from Thalia's spear, a massive flaming claymore. Percy remembered seeing swords like this in museums, or movies. But this weapon looked way more dangerous. The metal was insanely dark, looking like it wasn't made with any earthly metal, like it was crafted from meteorites. The fire shifting around the metal was nearly pure white, with occasional patches of random color flaring up here and there. It didn't look like any fire the demigods had seen before. The sickly face of the angel looked downright demonic as the fire cast his face in shadows. His smile was massive.

Thalia walked right up to the taller figure, not backing down from the tense stare off. She had faced bigger and scarier looking foes than this winged hobo in rusted, ancient armor. But she could tell that his flaming sword was no joke. She would need to be careful.

Bertrand raised his arm, wielding his weapon high above his head; ready to strike down this sinner who's very existence was a blasphemy! He hadn't felt this good, this powerful, since the time of the Great War itself! He hadn't felt this confident since—

The imposing angel fell on his back, too drunk and uncoordinated to handle the blade's weight.

There was a booming _CRASH!_ It was followed cracking sounds from the concrete of the bar's floor and pained groans. Drunken hiccups soon followed, leading into sounds of struggle. Bertrand's armor was making it quite difficult to stand back up again, acting like a flipped beetle stuck on its back, with his muscles wrapped tightly in the limb slackening straightjacket of intoxication.

Thalia stood there, not believing what she was seeing. Then, the shock wore off. She proceeded to act in a dignified manner that reflected the true capacity of fair paly and restraint that the Greek gods possessed.

She kicked the helpless drunken angel on the floor in his side a few times.

Every kick produced a loud _CLANG!_ She was thankful her steel-toed combat boots absorbed most of the shock of the impacts; otherwise she might have broken her foot.

With great difficulty, the fallen angel rose to his feet. "The next time we meet, _bastard child_ , I won't be drunk. And you'll see that this flaming sword isn't just for show," Bertrand hissed, with a fierce expression that conveyed how deeply he hated the gods of Olympus. The Daughter of Zeus didn't yield, matching his face with one of equal drive, ready for the fight to come. With no more words, the winged man reached for his glass and threw back the remainder of the whiskey, swallowing it hard. With a grimace, he looked around the bar. "Fuck this place," he muttered. "Bring on the next thing."

The angel then stumbled toward the door, careful enough not to get his wings caught but not so much so that he didn't spill a few drinks along the way. Pushing the door open, he managed half of a polite bow to the bar's regulars, and a middle finger to the demigods, before falling through, picking himself up, and making his way out into the street.

"You okay, Thalia?" Percy asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she grumbled, retracting her collapsible spear, "Wish I coulda fried him though."

"I know he can be quite abrasive, but you'll have to forgive Bertrand," said Colby.

"Why should I!?" Thalia snapped, turning her electric gaze to the sitting wizard. But then, as quick as a flash, her expression softened slightly, becoming not as hate-filled. It was still quite harsh and menacing, but not as hate-filled.

While it was just a guess, Percy imagined that Thalia was feeling conflicted about her dad. On the one hand, he had saved her from the dismal fields of Hades by turning her into a pine tree until the Golden Fleece made her human again. But on the other hand, if what Grover hinted at in private was true, the King of Olympus had left her with a drunken mother for most of her relatively short life. Percy knew from first-hand experience how difficult a demigod's life was without their divine parent's support.

"I'm not justifying his words, but he has a different point of view," Colby continued. "To him, the gods of Olympus are a mockery, a parody, of what he loves more than anything. If what he says is true, he came from a time before the Greek gods. While the Olympians have remained worshiped, the same kind of support for God singular has been eroding away. Or, at least that's how he sees it. And so often, sadly, perception trumps reality. Imagine what it would feel like if Zeus was around and working for the world but he was ignored in favor of another deity, just try think of how much that would sting."

Thalia regarded the wizard with a different kind of gaze, one that was not quite as harsh. She still didn't seem pleased, but her anger seemed to abate enough for her to calm down. The Daughter of Zeus took her seat at the crowded table with no further words.

Percy stared at Colby, amazed at what he just saw. The same guy who had been criticizing the gods earlier now didn't quite seem as disapproving. He couldn't tell if this was closer to his true opinion or if he was simply softening himself for Thalia's benefit.

"Such sad creatures," said Old Scarps, his eyes still focused on the door.

"Angels or drunks?" Colby asked.

"Pfff! Drunks are God's chosen few. Angels are just his messengers. Can you imagine? Being one with everything, born with a purpose, getting told everything you need to do to make the world a better place, only to have it all torn away, to be cast down, and left to experience creation alone on such limited terms? No wonder they're all drunks. This place sucks."

"Aye," mumbled the room, sans the teenagers, with drinks held high, toasting misery.

"Why doesn't he drink with his own kind?" Colby asked.

"Berty? He does. But they have the decency to throw him out before he gets this drunk."

"And you don't?" asked Yashar.

The little bartender laughed. "Ain't a cluricaun born that can so much as spell _decency_ , let alone appreciate it," The door opened once again. "Back so soon, eh?" Old Scraps asked with another laugh. "Another whiskey then, Berty?" He called towards the door.

"No," said a different voice, "But I will take a beer."

The room fizzled out and all fell quiet. Everyone got tense, even Yashar and Colby. The stranger stood at the entrance, smiling back at the looks of shock and distain sent his way.

The five newcomers to Austin all stared at the being that had effectively killed the bar's buzz. He was an old man, sporting a broad, friendly smile surrounded by a mischievous expression carried on the wrinkles of his face. His skin was a coopery brown and his hair was long, knotted, and jet-black with streaks of stray greys. Despite his apparent age, his muscles were firm and taut, rigid and honed. The only clothing he wore was a deerskin tunic that looked soiled, as if from having lived outdoors in that lone outfit for years. He almost looked like a former surfer ladies man that had turned into an ancient, feral hippie.

Percy sensed there was a lot more to this old man though. The main reason why was Grover. The satyr was staring at the newest presence with a look of confusion and hope. It looked as if the horned young man was going to faint at any moment with a big smile. Thanks to the empathy link he shared with Grover, Percy actually knew what he felt. It was a energy like nothing he had ever felt before. They both had been in the presence of gods but this was something else. It felt older, thicker. The demigod assumed (correctly) that this newest being had a power akin to that of the lost god Pan. It was more elemental, more primal and natural, than the kinds of divine power seen in the Olympians.

And that combined with that massive impish grin made Percy feel oddly uncomfortable.

The demigod wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable, and another acted on that, knowing full well why he should feel that way. "No. You. **Out** ," said Old Scarps, struggling for the words, pointing angrily at the door, refusing eye contact.

The old man's smile remained, and his eye twinkled a little. He asked innocently, "You're not going to tell me that you don't serve _my kind_ here, are you?"

"If by _your kind_ you mean foul trickster spirits, then no, we most certainly do not."

"Oh, but I'm quite thirsty," said the Old Man, his eyes looking humble even as he smiled just widely. "Just one drink?"

"First rule of bartending: never let a trickster speak." Old Scarps pointed a stiff finger toward the door. "Out!"

"But I've already spoken," The old man said, with his smirk growing even larger, like he had seen a twist coming in a movie half an hour ago that was only playing itself out now. "If you kick me out now, you might be doing exactly what I want you to do."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

The elderly man in the deerskin tunic leaned back out the door and looked up at the sign. Then he leaned back in. "What if I assure you that I am quite damned?"

"Of that, I am most certain. Still won't get you a drink. Out! Out, out, and **out!** "

A moment of silence gripped the bar; a standoff, a stare down between an old man and a two-foot tall man. Then, after that seemingly endless moment, the old man stepped further inward with his eyes never leaving the bartender, as if daring him to challenge him. Old Scarps simply glowered there.

"Relax Old Scarps," The old man said with a kind voice that clashed with his big grin, "I'm not here for you. There's no reason to earn my ire. I'll be out of here quickly."

"How quickly, Coyote?" Yashar spoke up, seeming on edge, worried, looking down at the wrinkled man that was several feet shorter than him like he was the more imposing.

"Just long enough for two things. Seeing and telling," The old man, named Coyote it seemed, answered, with it sounding like a riddle. "Then again, for what other motives does anyone—?"

"Why'd you do it?" asked Colby, interrupting Coyote dead in his tracks. The wizard's tone was bitter and calculated.

Coyote smiled. "Whatever are you—?"

"Pretend for a moment that I know exactly how smart you are," Colby continued harshly, with his voice even colder than before, "Why did you do it? All those years ago?"

Coyote was caught in a lie and had the sheepish grin to show for it. He didn't look angry. "All things must be taught a lesson. Even ancient ones," he said, before turning his gaze to the demigods. His grin threatened to spilt his face in half from how massive it was. " _ **Especially**_ ancient ones. I am life's hard lesson."

As seemed to be par for the course ever since they got here, Percy and the others from out of town were clueless about what they were talking about.

"I know what you are," said Colby, "Why are you here?"

"As I said, seeing and telling. After all, its not every day that demigods come to Austin," Coyote said, as he started to trod his way over to the table of teenagers. As he approached, the demigods felt on edge all over again. But this time, it felt more urgent. The old man reached the table, and just stared at the teenagers, committing their faces to memory. Then, after making his way to behind Percy's seat, he started to sniff the air, deeply inhaling through his wrinkled nose. It reminded Percy of a dog investigating a stranger. Coyote's smell also matched a dog's. "Ah, a son of Poseidon, eh? Guess that 'Great Truce' nonsense was ignored at seeing some fine human tail, uh?"

As Coyote moved on to Thalia's seat, Percy looked horrified and confused. He couldn't explain how this being could know his dad simply by smelling him. The Trickster than reached Thalia, and inhaled deeply again. "So, Zeus couldn't keep it in his pants, um? Big surprise."

He then moved on to Grover, but this time he didn't even bothering smelling the air. "So, there's a satyr here. No doubt looking for Pan. Real shame he had to go and leave like that. Of course, you horn-heads have been too dense to see the truth. What makes it even more insulting is he's been hiding away somewhere reachable, somewhere… **underfoot**." Coyote spoke, adding a devious wink.

"WHAT!?" Grover shouted, his shock overpowering his fear. "You know where Pan is!?"

"Indeed, I do," He answered simply. There was a long pause, as Grover was bursting with anticipation at finally having the answer to his quest. Right when the satyr was going to lose it, Coyote walked away onto the next chair, leaving the poor goat-legged fellow hanging. As he did so, his wrinkly face was barely containing a roaring laugh.

Coyote then made his way to Zoë, who looked like she was sweating buckets with fear. The nature spirit sniffed the air around her. Again, he nearly busted a gut with laughter. But like before, he stopped himself. After managing to control himself, he forced out, "My, my, my…its certainly a surprise to see you among this crew. I can't even imagine how your compatriots would treat you if they knew from whose loins you sprung."

While Zoë looked like she had just taken an H-bomb to the face, Coyote approached Bianca. As nervous as she felt, the newest hunter of Artemis was actually kind of eager. This being seemed to know whom their parents were, and she didn't have a clue. Swiftly, that knowledge seemed to be within reach. She barely contained her excitement.

Coyote reached her and sniffed the air around her. There was a painfully long pause. Bianca focused on the dirty forest hippie, and nothing else for what felt like forever.

"You know," he began, "I can't actually tell whom your parents are, my dear. Most odd."

With that, he walked away, leaving Bianca staring at him with her mouth hanging opened. It was difficult to know for sure, Percy swore he saw the edge of Coyote's mouth briefly morph into an upturned smirk in the flickering lights of the bar.

"It was a pleasure to meet and learn about all of you," Coyote said with a low bow.

"Y-you didn't. You don't even learn your names," Thalia said, confused, worried.

"I don't need them. Your faces, origins, and conduct during your time in this city have told me everything that I would ever need to know. Besides, names are highly overrated anyway. Only the petty, fleeting, and shortsighted grasp onto them. Names give others power over you. And I, as Coyote, have no deeper name to be used against me."

"You're not a coyote!" Percy blurred out, nervous, unable to stop himself, and suddenly feeling very dumb for saying the obvious. There was something about this being's presence that deeply unsettled him, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

The old man smirked at Percy, looking at him like he was a puppy that just did something mildly amusing. "You are correct. I am not a coyote. I am **just** Coyote—capital C."

"W-what does that mean?"

"Do you really know so little about the stories and fables of the land you live in, boy?" Coyote asked rolling his eyes, though his smile didn't leave his face.

Again, Percy was confused. He was beginning to understand why everyone was tense around this guy. He never spoke clearly and every other word was a menacing riddle!

"He's talking about the legends of the Native American tribes, or at least some of them," Colby interjected, "Many of them speak of Coyote, a trickster who predates many gods."

"Ah, ah, ah," Coyote playfully scolded with a pointed finger wagging back and forth, "Not many gods, Colby. _**All gods!**_ I emerged from nothingness right after the sun and moon were forged, though no one made me. I have seen every god come into being. Coyote existed when there was only featureless black, when all else was devoid of form. I have witnessed everything that has ever played out, from the first beings emerging from the void of Chaos to the conversations you've all just shared in this bar, like watching a play on a stage. But do not be mislead into thinking that I am merely a bystander. I have intervened several times. Among them, it was I who first gave fire to mankind."

"And who was responsible for the flooding of the world afterwards," Colby cut in.

"Yeah," Coyote admitted easily, acting as if the wizard had told a mildly amusing joke.

"You lie!" Zoë spat, speaking with complete conviction, "That was Prometheus!"

"Did he now? Are you speaking from experience, my dear? Did you see him do it?" Coyote asked, with a raised eyebrow and a chuckling tone to his voice.

To Percy's infinite confusion, Zoë stopped talking that very moment and looked like she was going to die. All of her usual swagger and confidence fled like a mob of rats on a sinking ship. He had never seen the Hunter of Artemis look so completely terrified before. He suddenly wondered just how old the teenager sitting near him actually was.

"Or did he merely repeat my action in a later Age?" asked Coyote, before adopting the demeanor of a college professor. "There were Ages before the Titans and Olympians, you know…young one," he paused, seeming to savor Zoë's brief look of irritation, "In fact, there have been five separate Ages. Zeus currently rules the Fifth. And the Greeks weren't the only ones to see the truth. The Aztecs, Navajo, and Hopi all spoke of five. And if you think I'm making this up, answer me this…how do I know any of this?"

Percy looked horrified, only now did he truly grasp how old and right this figure was. He remembered back to when before he left in search of Zeus' stolen master bolt, right after he discovered he was the Son of Poseidon. Chiron had spoken of five different Ages. He had said that he was not even old enough to remember the Fourth very well, and he was thousands of years old. A part of the demigod wanted to believe that this trickster was just toying with them, making himself seem more daunting than he really was thanks to looking up information anyone with a working computer could find. But that didn't seem right. His raw power, feeling older than any Percy ever encountered, feeling closer to the kind of energy he felt in his vision of ancient Israel than the gods, convinced him of that. Given that Colby had said there was no linkage between these figures and the Olympians, Percy concluded that, despite not wanting to believe it, that Coyote was right, and that knowledge made this already abrasive presence even more imposing, and frightening.

"You've talked long enough," Colby said.

"Says who?" Coyote asked innocently.

"Says me!"

"Oh, so you do," The nature spirit said, sounded as relaxed as possible.

"Yeah, I do. I don't like it when you talk. Whenever you talk, it makes me think you're up to something."

"Would you prefer that I stop talking?"

"I like it even less when you aren't talking. Then I **know** you're up to something."

"Glad to see you didn't get that order mixed up," Coyote said with his smile crooked to one side.

"You've already done the seeing you wanted to, but I'm going to guess you haven't done the telling you wanted to yet, have you?"

"Correct."

"So, tell us what you want to tell us…then leave."

"Very well, Colby. I'll humor you. After all, you've humored me," Coyote said, "I have two messages. One for you, and one for the demigods."

"What's your message for me?"

"Something very bad is coming into town tonight. I'd recommend leaving here right away and getting home as soon as you can."

"I would ask you to explain what's coming, but I'm sure you'd just answer me in a riddle, right?"

"Correct!"

Colby released a groan of irritation. "Fine. And your message for the demigods?"

Coyote faced them. "I am many things, children. You couldn't even begin to imagine half of them. But for now, I shall take on the role of messenger, of omen. I shall be both…of _**apocalypse**_ ," Coyote paused, to savor the looks of terror that covered every visible face in the bar. "I have been around since Time began, and I've seen a lot. But even I have never seen what is on its way. Soon events will fall onto each other like lines of dominos, like _**games within games**_. Your perceptions of the world will change, widening more than you would ever wish, revealing nightmares that will dwarf even Titans and monsters. The choices you'll make, the blood you'll spill, the deaths you'll reap, will change the world as you know it into something new. Everyone needs to learn something. We will see if you all can figure out what that is. We will see if you can figure out life's hard lesson," Coyote's smile was the biggest one yet.

For a solid minute, no one said anything, taking in what Coyote had just imparted.

"Y-you done?" Colby asked, though his face was as pale white as everyone else's.

"Yup, I'm done," said Coyote casually, as he took a few steps away.

"Coyote, I swear if you're up to something—"

Coyote stopped smiling, and Colby's words die in its aftermath. As scary as Coyote's smiling face was, it had nothing on his face when not smiling. The effect of that downward pointing mouth seemed to dim the lights and make the very air in the bar grow cold. The old man brooded for a moment, his eyes deathly serious, his copper skin creasing unpleasantly. "Colby, when will you ever learn? I'm _**always**_ up to something."

Then, out of nowhere, Coyote started to laugh the hardest anyone had ever heard anyone laugh. He unleashed all of his repressed laughter. He stood hunched over, wheezing, gasping for breath between loud guffaws and hysterical hollers. It was cackling bellow of a bray that filled everyone with deep dread. It was a harsh laugh that mocked everything that everyone else held as important or sacred. It was the laugh of Coyote.

Colby and Yashar looked especially stricken by the giggling as Coyote started to disappear. It was a sound they had heard only once before, and they wished to forget that. With the laughter weakening as his body became less solid, Coyote faded away.

Only the overhead bulbs made noise, their stinging hum slightly less abrasive than Coyote. Yashar leaned forward onto the table, shaking his head. "Never, in all my years, have I met a creature who can kill a good buzz quicker than Coyote."

Old Scarps nodded. "I'll drink to that."

"I'll join you. Give me a double for the road," Colby called out as he stood up from the table, "I'm calling it a night." He then gestured to the demigods, "Come with me, kids."

"W-wait!?" Percy asked alarmed, "Your going to listen to the creepy old hippie man!?"

"And you expect us to go with you, after all the crap you said about our parents?" Thalia added bitterly.

"Yeah, I do. Its fine if you don't like me, but I'm not going to leave you by yourselves. Something very bad is coming; something I bet that makes redcaps look like clawless cats. I'm not going to let you endanger your own lives just because you're being spiteful. We might disagree but that doesn't mean I want any of you to get killed, or worse."

Everyone looked struck by that answer. They were flabbergasted at the concern shown. Moved by that and having no better options, they started to arise from their chairs.

"Percy's right," Yashar commented, "You are doing just what Coyote wants you to do. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Colby nodded dourly, "I know."

"And yet your still going to do it?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Two reasons, Yashar. One, because even though whenever Coyote tells you to do something you should do the opposite, he knows that, and so he tells you the opposite of what he wants you to do. Then you can't so much as get out of bed without doing what he wants. Two, because I have a sneaking suspicion of what it is that Coyote is hinting at. There aren't many things that can spur a **Manitou** like him into making an appearance. And if I'm right, which I really hope I'm not, then my home really is the safest place."

Yashar's face darkened as his eyes widened, catching onto what Colby was hinting at. "Y-you don't think…?"

"Sadly, I do think. And if I'm right, the demigods may experience true fear tonight."

"Why is that?" Percy asked.

Colby threw back the double shot of whiskey, swallowing it in a single gulp, "Because you might end up seeing the single most terrifying thing I've ever encountered."

* * *

 **And that was the latest chapter of this story! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it!**

 **There's A LOT that I want to talk about here…so let's get started right away!**

 **Firstly, let's start with what might be the biggest shock to those who love the Percy Jackson series, Colby's opinions towards the gods of Olympus. As much as I do LOVE the first Percy Jackson series, I do have one recurring nitpick. It takes one of the most interesting, ambiguous details of Greek mythology and neuters it. The gods are the bad guys! Or, more accurately, the gods and titans are at best equally shitty. In the actual myths, the Titans ruled over a golden age in which humanity was made and treated as equals. Sure, there were some messed up things like what Kronos does to his kids but that stuff is rare. Then the gods came and fucked it up! Having a series in the modern day with the gods greatly softened up and the protagonist as a conflicted demigod offers SO MUCH potential for really deep and engaging debates and discussions about if the power and the current relative goodness of the gods outweighs the unredeemable badness of their past selves. And the same could be said of the opposite with the Titans, would the badness of their current selves outweigh the goodness they once possessed. But instead, at the end of the day, it ultimately boils down to, 'gods good, titans bad!' And that's seriously grating when the series (quite rightly) goes out of it way to show how horrible the gods can be.**

 **Anyway, let's get back to Colby. Since he's not a demigod, he wouldn't buy into the same line of thinking about the gods that the majority of the characters do. He would not be affected by biases like being loyal to a parent. He could see the gods in a more judgmental, un-favoring light. Also, while very critical and resentful towards the gods, he's not a bastard like Luke. Colby has the potential to be something literally unheard in the Percy Jackson series, a hero character who is critical of the gods, who shares many of Luke's beliefs but isn't horrible because of them. He's help the demigods even though he dislikes their parents. And don't worry, Colby's specific reasons for hating the gods will eventually be shown. Also, he won't stay this bitter towards them, at least not fully. But you'll have to wait and see as to what I mean! Lol. ;)**

 **Also, Colby's presence will have many effects on those around him, mainly Percy. For example, the whole 'questioning the gods' thing will be more thoroughly explored. But once again, you'll have to wait to see what I have in mind! Lol. ;)**

 **One last thing about Colby, you'll notice he's called a wizard. This is important! You won't learn why it's important for a while, but I will say there are some very good reasons why he didn't say magician or sorcerer.**

 **Please give your thoughts on these ideas for Colby and Percy, okay?**

 **Now, let's focus on the "Dreams and Shadows" side of the coin! So, we were introduced to several new characters! Please tell me your thoughts on Yashar, Bill, Bertrand, and Coyote. I'm very curious to see what you think of these characters and their interactions with the Percy Jackson characters. Favoring, I hope! Lol.**

 **Of those characters, the one who I had to take the most creative license with was Bertrand, the fallen angel. Of all the characters, he was the hardest to nail in the Percy Jackson universe. How would a fallen servant of God react to the presence of the Greek gods? The answer I eventually settled on was that he's what Colby would be like if he was as big as a bastard as Luke. For those of you who haven't read "Dreams and Shadows", Bertrand is not this much of a dick. But he's still kind of a dick! Lol. Or, to be more accurate, he's an unforgiven fallen angel with little forgiveness to give that says crazy things about God and the afterlife that may or may not be true. He's not exactly a pleasant figure to be around but he is still kind of noble. It's like thousands of years of living on earth, drinking most of that time, and his doubts about himself and God spurred him to be withdrawn and bitter. He also has a tendency to be crass and unapologetic in his rantings. And reflecting on all of that, I imagined that Bertrand would be very nasty towards the gods, like they would be a mockery of the thing he loves most but he is unable to reach, God. He's view everything connected to them as wrong and vile, as something to destroy. He'd react to the demigods like a Christian fundamentalist would react to wiccans! Lol.**

 **Now, let's talk about Coyote. Of all of the characters in the "Dreams and Shadows", he's my favorite! I love how smart and unreadable he is! lol. There are a few quick things I want to explain about him though. Firstly, in this book series, Coyote is said to be a Manitou, and for those of you who don't know, that is, to quote Wikipedia, "the spiritual and fundamental life force understood by Algonquian groups of Native Americans. It is omnipresent and manifests everywhere: organisms, the environment, events, etc." Secondly, let's talk about the "five ages" thing. Believe it or not, both the ancient Greeks and several Native American tribes all say that there were five ages of existence, and that the whole of human history is the fifth one. Naturally, I HAD to use that! Lol. And finally, and most interesting, according to some Native American legends, Coyote is actually older than ANY god, having been made before any of them and having made himself out of nothingness. I thought that would be a cool idea to address, that something WAY older than gods exists.**

 **And that's about it for this chapter. The next chapter will see the demigods facing something unlike anything they have EVER seen before. The worst that the "Dreams and Shadows" universe as to offer! I can't wait to write that out! Lol.**

 **Until next time, read, review, favor, follow, and spread the word! :)**


	4. The Worst Thing

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone! Once again, I'm super happy to see the number of people reading this story going up with each new chapter! I can only ask for that number to keep going up.**

 **Anyway, outside of that I don't have much to say before starting this chapter. There are only two things that I can think of to add. The first is that what you about to read was originally part of a bigger chapter but I decided to make its own chapter so I could offer you something after such a long wait. And the second is that I'm personally very happy with this chapter, and I eagerly await your feedback! :)**

 **Here's the fourth chapter of "The Demigod and the Damned": The Worst Thing**

* * *

It was only after leaving _The Cursed and The Damned_ , did Percy Jackson truly feel either. He didn't know how long he had been inside that bleak bar, but he knew it couldn't have been too long. No more than two hours at the absolute most. Despite that, the night he walked out into felt entirely different from the one he had escaped from.

This confused the male demigod. Everything looked fine, but it all felt so very wrong. Despite it being a decent temperature out, his body felt numb, it felt cold, very cold. But even as he felt cold, a part of his body felt hot, his nostrils. They burned from the alcohol that had been shot out of them earlier. Every breath still stung like flickering fire. And that confused him, because up until now it had been getting better over time. But now, now that he was outside, for reasons he couldn't possibly fathom, they hurt so much. And the longer he was outside, every breath hurt more, starting to feel more like literal flames.

Because of this, Percy didn't mind that Colby was rushing them off without explaining what the big deal was. While it was true that the concern on the older young man's face had spurred Percy into following him, as time started to move away from that moment, the urge to obey was weaker. If it hadn't been for the burning in his nose and all of the conception-shattering stuff he had seen in that bar, Percy might have complained.

Percy turned towards the others, hoping to ask if they had any idea what was up with his nose, knowing that probably only Colby could help. But as he motioned his head, the brown-headed teenager froze, when noticing someone else had already been frozen.

It was Thalia, who was ten steps behind everyone else walking on the empty street. He approached her, mostly more curious then anything else. The others in the group noticed his change in direction and followed suit. Percy's curiosity became worry as he saw the fear on her face. In all of the time he had been around her since she became human again, Percy Jackson never saw Thalia look so scared.

She was looking up at the sky, which was as normal as a clear night sky could be with widened electric-blue eyes that glistened with confusion and apprehension. He called out to her. She didn't answer; she just kept looking up. It took three more tries and him shaking her for the Goth to face him, acting as if she had been in a kind of trance.

"T-Thalia…" Percy began, greatly worried for his friend, "What's wrong?"

"H-he's…he's not there…" she answered, her eyes still not blinking.

"What?"

"My father…he's not in the storm. I can't feel his presence. But Zeus is in all storms."

"Wha-what storm?" Percy said, looking up doubtfully at the clear evening sky. He turned towards the person who he felt might have a clue. "What's she talking about, Colby?"

Before an answer could be given, a larger presence provided one, with no voice. Looking up, Colby's gaunt face darkened, both from fear, and the black clouds rolling overhead. Out of nowhere, on a clear and pleasant night, stampedes of coal colored thunderheads charged across the sky, their ethereal footsteps booming in a thunder that shook the soul. The moonlit sky was bolted out; a shroud of shadows was consuming all of the light.

Everyone looked up at the clouds, and noticed something was wrong, very, very wrong.

It was so hard to see. There was no more moonlight, and the electric lights of the streetlights and remaining neon signs seemed weaker. Sight was still possible for one reason, a detail about the puffy collections of ebony water vapor that hinted at much darker things. Within the black shapes far above, flashing tinges of blood crimson and pus yellow flared. Every few seconds, a brief wave of savage light would ripple across the clouds' surfaces. Engulfed within the engulfing clouds was a glow, as if backlit by distant fires. Every once in a while, the clouds resembled the searing breath of a dragon.

As everyone continued to look upward, this idea was enhanced by a new, odd detail. It started to rain. But it was not a clear rain of life-giving water that pummeled straight down. Such rain wouldn't have been visible in the oppressive shadowy plume overhead. Instead, this rain glowed vivid orange, and drifted slowly to the earth like ash.

Most of those present could piece together what this was, but the answer confused them.

Embers. It was raining flaming embers.

As the flickering flames fell to the streets of Austin, another detail revealed itself, in a sudden blinding flash of light that briefly blinded everyone.

Lightning belched across the ebony canvas of the sky, blazing in brilliant white whips. The crack of the whips came in the thunder, which started to boom more regularly. Not only did the thunder and the lightning become more frequent, but also they became harsher. It was as if the sky itself was unleashing a pent-up anger towards the earth. Cavernous claps of thunder offered the sky a collection of rumbling clarions. Then it started to rain, a rain of water. Silvering needles of rain viciously stabbed the pavement of Austin. They did so as the embers continued to fall, not putting out the falling flames.

Before the bizarreness of that sight could fully register in their minds, another joined it. The sky itself started to fall as softball sized chucks of ice smashed their way to the earth. They smashed into the ground like cannonballs, destroying pavement and parked car alike. Grover and Bianca just barely escaped chucks of ice that would have crushed them.

Even the rush of adrenaline coursing in the minds of the group at this newest danger couldn't dwarf a deeper dread, which the demigods didn't understand but couldn't deny. There was more to this night, to this storm, than rain or thunder or lightning or even ember and ice. Something was churning within the billowing sky, reeking of new things. There was nothing natural about the display of nature playing doomsday in miniature.

Suddenly, all of those present started feeling off. Their heads didn't feel quite right, and there was this heaviness in their stomachs. It reminded Percy of being in Hades' presence, and anything that could be compared to that was something best avoided.

After looking at the surreal, savage sky for several seconds, Percy turned his attention to the wizard once again. "Colby, what's going on? What's doing that?" he asked.

The ginger's face was ghost-white while his body shook and convulsed like Jell-O. After a few moments of being still as a statue, his eyes frantically scanned the nearby area. Then they locked onto a particular location, a collection of trashcans so close they were touching, each overflowing with garbage. "Everyone hide under that trash…NOW!"

Many of the demigods felt the urge to protest, but the sheer fear on Colby's previously unflappable face convinced them otherwise. Plus, if the storm was causing this new foul feeling, then hiding amid a few thrown away things wouldn't be the worst thing ever.

Thalia grumbled. Zoë contemplated firing a few arrows at the wasted wizard. Grover nearly threw up as his sensitive nose was forced to endure the reeking fumes of decay. Despite all of that, the group of six successfully hid behind the row of loaded trashcans.

There were a few minutes of nothing happening. The steady rhythm of raindrops with the occasion collision of huge hail was all that happened. Everything else was still and silent. Percy started to fidget a little bit, not wanting to be here and finding less reason to do so. The other demigods followed suit.

Colby seemed to notice this, and addressed all of them in as hushed a whisper as he could, "Don't you fucking dare! We are staying here until the **witching hour** is up! No matter what you hear or see…don't make so much as a single fucking sound!"

Zoë was about to protest, when a something happened that kept her mouth closed.

There was a sound, terrifying and thunderous, that started to echo in the vast night compacted in the city. It was steady and staggering, a tumultuous cacophony that without fail produced several deafening roars that rumbled deep in the ear every few seconds.

Everyone felt fear crawl up their spines. Colby looked like he might faint. And just like that, hiding behind many piles of rotten trash sounded like a perfectly pleasant pastime.

Six sets of eyes all stared out into the section of sidewalk and street they could see, waiting with all the anticipation of a man held up at gunpoint for the weapon to fire. Time crawled at a snail's pace, every new second added on thick layers of soul-crushing tension. Minutes seemed to take years. Anxiousness grew within them like weeds. With every passing moment, they silently started to wish for the horror to just appear already!

Then, just like that, the continuous cacophony came to a crashing halt, like a record needle abruptly removed. Everyone reeled in surprise, and stared at each other in confusion. Even Colby, who knew the signs well, didn't understand what happened.

They allowed themselves to breath a sigh of relief when a young couple passed by. They were quite happy, making lovey-dovey eyes at each other as they talked about some film. The son of Poseidon heard them talking about a scene where some Scottish guy dove into a filthy toilet. He almost laughed, feeling at ease, feeling that all was right with the world.

Then, instantaneously, a dark rider emerged, mounted on a shadowy mound of matted fur! In its hand was a monstrous axe; the blade alone was half the size of a grown man!

Percy's eyes widened, at the dark rider that seemed to come out of nowhere. He then noticed that the people weren't running away. The young couple couldn't seem to sense the hulking horror barreling towards them. He felt an acute despair grow within his gut.

Time seemed to slow down. What happened next would be forever burned into Percy's memory, becoming the unchallengeable lord of the countless nightmares he experienced.

The axe was swung!

They were both cleaved into two bisected pieces. Two wet, gelatinous slops, of their innards spilling onto the sidewalk, were the last sounds, the last actions, they would get.

Grover and Bianca barely repressed screams of horror. Zoë and Thalia stood like statues, with blank, shocked expressions shown. Colby looked like he was on the verge of crying, though for what emotional reason couldn't be known. Was it fear? Sadness? Anger?

Percy was unable to stop staring at the creature that remained less than twenty feet away. The son of Poseidon remembered how he had recently seen skeletal warriors at the Air and Space Museum. He had thought they were frightening foes, with dull grey skin that almost hid their transparent nature, yellow eyes, and bones that shimmered like X-ray images. But when compare to this rotting juggernaut atop a stygian steed, those twelve reanimated undead seemed nothing more than cheesy Halloween skeletons.

His body was a monument to decay, a testament to the ultimate fate of all shackled by the mortal coil. More bone than flesh, he was a particularly large, wicked-looking specter with bones turned into a charred black and the few lingering pieces of flesh still attached boiling and popping as if they were slabs of cooking meat. He smelled like fiery death. His tangled hair was pulled back into a topknot. Unlike the bony brawlers of the General, this wraith didn't wear much clothing, much less grey muscle shirts and combat boots. He was adorned only in burning armor and ash. The gargantuan ax dripping in fresh blood was slung over his huge shoulder that resembled a frequently used grill plate.

Percy then noticed the mount fur that this undead rider sat upon. It was a goat, about the size of a mastiff, with fur as black as a starless night and hooked, razor-sharp horns. After seeing Grover for so long, seeing similar goat-like features on this beast was quite appalling. There was none of his friend's warmth, humanity, or meekness in this animal. Its ebony hooves struck the less black pavement as it was steadied, igniting small fires.

Behind the rider and his goat, trapped between lines that flickered in and out of visibility like dying fires, were two shrieking souls. They were milk-white and translucent, pulsing in futility to escape. The young couple cried out as they now saw past the Mist, and life.

The son of Poseidon found his gaze moving from the rider to his captured prey. He saw the confusion and fear unmistakable in their eyes that resembled pearly fog. That had been the final straw. His anger boiled over and overpowered the fear of this unknown foe. His mind flashed back to family murdered by the redcaps. His hands became tight fists. He would **not** allow that to happen again!

Acting before reason could take control, Percy Jackson slowly moved from his cover. He might have been driven by great rage, but that didn't mean he was going to be careless. The rider stood in place, scanning the street corners around him for reasons unknowable.

Soon enough he was crouched down near the rider, the reek of brimstone near overpowering. And the bad vibes he had noticed earlier were stronger, much stronger. Even so, he willed himself to raise Riptide, to slice through the flickering restraints. The shackled souls noticed his efforts and looked at him with more hope and happiness than could be imagined. They allowed themselves to believe that they would escape from this nightmare. Their pitiful screaming stopped, leaving everything as silent as baited breath.

Percy readied his arms, lifted the blade of celestial bronze as high as the need to remain concealed would allow, and placed all of his desire to save these two into a vicious strike. He was fueled by all the right, all of the necessity, to intervene and fulfill a hero's role.

The blow that slightly glowed was swung, streaking through the air like a shining comet.

The two pairs of ghostly eyes gazed with more interest than could be understood. They welcomed the glint of the sword in the storm, the freedom that it would offer them.

The blade kept moving, within a hair's breathe of their cables. It streaked and—

—passed uselessly through the cables as if they were nothing but smoke!

Percy's ocean-green eyes widened as the blade kept traveling on its own momentum. Before logic could weaken his resolve, he tried several more times to free the couple. Each was as unsuccessful as the last. The full sorrow of his failure was vividly tattooed upon his face. The pain of being unable to save people was far worse than bodily harm.

And sadly for Percy Jackson, he was about to experience an even greater kind of pain.

Out of the silence arose new sounds, ones that danced and scraped against the ears. They were sounds of a decidedly harsh, and most inhuman nature. The crackling and popping of roaring fires right against the face, the roars and rumbles from city-destroying earthquakes, and mashing, brittle sounding fluttering from billions of desert locusts.

Those sounds were mighty, elemental, risking to sweep in like a tempest and overwhelm him like a flood. Percy fought them off through gritted teeth and tightly clenched muscle. He stood his ground, not giving in. But a new detail soon manifested itself in the bedlam. The vibrant voices of spurred locust wings and clangorous calls of clashing earth were just the forerunners to another kind of vocal fury, one with human voices. It was an appalling ventriloquism that couldn't be pinpointed on any particular point of origin.

Percy reeled and fell to his knees as if he had struck inside his head by a cannonball!

His hands held the aching skull, as if trying to stop it from exploding. It felt like it would burst wide open at any moment. He was deafened. The sound became muted, and there was a faint ringing, which made the reality of sound frustratingly out of reach for him.

As the voices started, all other sound collapsed into a dull, hollow echo, an echo that duplicated the deafness experienced when mortar shells explode all around. Human voices of all types and pitches were heard without filter, overlapping with each other.

A smothered moan, as if a thousand discords were following together into a keen note. Weird, unearthly, terrible to hear; startling with its nearness. They sounded like they were less than five feet away, right next to his ear…inside his head. In every one of the thousands upon thousands of different voices howling and jostling at once like wounded beasts there was an additional symphony of sorrow. The writhing concord was broken by cries for help, some begging for a lowly drop of water, some crying out to God for pity, and some for unfriendly hands to finish whatever injuries had been so horribly begun. Yet others, in delirious, dreamy voices, spoke of loved ones as if they were there.

Of Jims and Pauls and Ashleys and Sallys.

At hearing the name Sally, the tears started to flow, as Percy thought of his mother. The pain and despair of those speaking of their Sallys became indistinguishable from his own.

Underneath all of that, at every moment, was something else. This whole time, there was a deep base note from closed draconic lips rumbling. It was an untellable garble of eviscerated inflictions and crushed constantans that spoke of something even more abysmal without the limitations of human speech, too hopeless to articulate its agony. Even untrammelled words without restrictions in either space or imagination could not convey all of the amorphous agonies in this rider's presence. The speech and memory of man fell short in their wake; there was no room within humanity to comprehend it in full.

Humanity decayed amid the dire laments of the truly wrenched, suffering, and forever lost.

Percy Jackson felt the full affect of that, taken aback by a sheer intensity, the unflinching and indescribable visceral horror. A stillborn scream curdled in his throat and congealed into a lump, a nonexistent lump blocking oxygen. He was never this powerless before.

Every new voice that he could understand trigged more tears, crystal rivers streaming down from Percy's ocean-green eyes onto pavement that had been scarred by Hell itself.

In this moment, Percy was just as forsaken as the cries of anguish stabbing his heart. Every new piece of fear or pain or sorrow he encountered felt as if it was coming from him. The agonies of these many voices were his. Every piece of pleasure and happiness he had ever obtained in his life felt like wonderful dreams that he was being forced to awaken from. It felt like all goodness was just a lie. But it was even worse than that. Not only was goodness a lie, but so seemed life as well. He no longer felt alive; life's breath was deprived from him. He felt the same as the dead. He felt the same as the damned.

Trapped in a phantasmagoria beyond comprehension, in the dark fever-tides of the most savage emotions, Percy was unprepared for the hand as hot as flaming logs that suddenly squeezed around his throat. He was soon lifted upward, and stared this rider in the face.

Ashen and charred sockets were wombs to profane pyres. The mostly skull of a face had some trace placements of muscle and sinew.

Percy tried to escape from the rotting face, writhing with all of the strength he could muster. It made no difference. The hand gripping his neck didn't slacken even a little.

The rider looked at the sight before him with what must have been a look of confused enquiry. With just barely enough scarps of muscles attached around his eye sockets to make the action possible, he raised an eyebrow devoid of hair. It was unknowable whether this was because this was the first time he saw a demigod, or someone dumb enough to approach a member of the **Wild Hunt** , in ages.

The nightmare riding atop of night attempted a wry smile, but it had almost forgotten the technique. And most of the muscles necessary for success had long since burnt away. The result was an exposed bestial grin of rotted ochre teeth as dark and jagged as coal arrowheads. With it faintly glowing in the fires from his eyes, he raised his massive axe to his prey. There was always something satisfying about watching the disemboweling up close. It was just something that—

 _ **T'chi!**_

In the soundless void, a swift sound cut its way through. The rider turned his head to—

 **SMASH!**

Then, to the shock of both predator and prey, something exploded against the rider's head! An arrow had collided with it, bursting into a collection of burning splinters.

The rider didn't look fazed. He and Percy turned towards the source, and found Bianca. She was standing there, with a pose meant to convey badass-ness, with a face showing shock. The three looked at each other awkwardly, unsure about what to do now. Bianca fired off a few more arrows at the rider in rapid succession, all of which were just as ineffective. The only result of each arrow was a light clanking sound.

The rider kept looking at Bianca, with that mostly fleshless eyebrow raised in disbelief.

Noticing an opportunity, Percy took advantage of the rider's confusion and escaped his grasp. With a violent wrenching effort, he dislodged himself and fell onto the ground.

The dark rider then bellowed out a banshee-like call that made flesh stand up on end. His flames were focused squarely on Bianca, and more importantly, the others still hidden. He now knew that there was much prey here.

Realizing this, Colby ran out of the cover as he shouted at the top of his lungs, "RUN!"

None of the demigods, or the satyr, needed to be told twice, and took off at a full sprint. For the second time since coming to Austin, Texas, they were running for their lives.

The rider sounded his hunting horn, calling to his eleven cruel and corrupted compatriots with a shrill twitter. As the nightmarish sound stabbed into the night, his dark steed sped off after his prey pitilessly into the night, a trail of cinders fluttering in his wicket wake.

He rode with greater zeal, knowing that he already had his toll for the return to Hell. He glanced back at those dragging behind him. He could see their sins, and while their sins were merely a fraction of his own, they were not saints. They were clean kills. Had all the parts of him that understood joy not been burnt out long ago, he might have felt elated.

No, it wasn't elation he felt. It was something else, something that these people took for granted. Life. For the first time in countless eons, this damned soul felt alive, truly alive. Even as the witching hour slowly ticked downward, this hunt was an adventure, an exhilaration. Both were among the causalities of the pit, each would be savored like wine.

The gates of Hell itself were open and the Wild Hunt had been called, unleashed upon the world. They had a message for the world, and if the world was wise, it would listen.

Sadly, the half dozen unfortunate souls running for their lives had already failed to listen.

* * *

 **And that was the latest chapter of this story! As always, I hope you all enjoyed it!**

 **So yeah, that is our introduction to the Wild Hunt, the unquestionably scariest goddamn thing in Cargill's book series, amid some decent competition! The reason why it is scary isn't its appearance or even its lethalness, or at least those aren't the main reasons. It's mainly because of how unstoppable it is and how ANYONE caught by them is doomed to an eternity of torture in Hell! This quote from "Dreams and Shadows" sums it up perfectly, "There is no known ward or protection against the Wild Hunt. It must simply run its course. If ill fate so has it that you find yourself hearing the roar of their hooves: find shelter, crouch low, and pray they do not notice you. An open field, the forest, or anywhere without nearby shelter is the last place you want to be when the hunt is called—for those hooves and horns may be the last thing you hear, and will certainty be the last thing you see."**

 **And…seeing as how Percy and Bianca kinda screwed the pooch for everyone else…yeah, their prospects of survival are not looking the best right now. Lol. ;)**

 **I had actually originally planned on having Colby explain what the Wild Hunt during the previous chapter, but I decided at the last minute to omit that part. The main reason was because I felt like showing the Wild Hunt was better than telling about it. This is something that needs to be seen and experienced! Lol.**

 **And you will be doing more of that in the next chapter, as we see the demigods and Colby fight against the Wild Hunt. Well, not so much fight, more like simply trying to survive while never stopping against a force that they are incapable of defeating. Its gonna be tense! Lol.**

 **Please let me know what you thought of the Wild Hunt, how the heroes reacted to them, and your hopes/fears for the next chapter. I look forward to hearing them all.**

 **Until next time, read, review, favor, follow, and spread the word! :)**


	5. A Beastly Warning

**Author's Notes: Hello everyone! I actually don't have anything to say for this one. So let's just get it started!**

 **Here's the fifth chapter of "The Demigod and the Damned": A Beastly Warning**

* * *

Percy Jackson was running. His feet were throbbing in his sneakers. His muscles ached. His saliva tasted funny. His breathe stung from the lingering liquor as it came from his nose. Even with the terror he felt, he couldn't stop his brain from going off on random tangents. He thought about what he would say to his mom when she asked about Texas.

' _Oh, it was a great time! I got to see a family murdered, a creepy, dirty bar full of jerk angels and brooding genies, a wizard who has a beef against my dad…and the scariest thing I've ever seen that's trying to chase me down and rip out my bloody soul. It was the best trip ever! Let's go there this summer! Supposedly the theaters have killer nachos!'_

That thought was quickly stomped out by about a hundred more, all of which entailed something that was killer in a much more literal sense. The dark rider was giving chase. Indeed, Topknot hadn't broken pace since he pursued the group of doomed individuals. This fact was undeniable because of the domination the rider from Hell displayed over the air. The footsteps of the goat's stride were like a booming musical accompaniment. But the sound of the goats' hooves, deafening though it was, proved a comforting relief from the other sounds that trailed close behind them…that followed them and clung to them. Endless wails, enteral moans, perpetual screams; all overlapping with each other. And that wasn't all that followed them. There was also an aura, cascading off of the flaming rider like a heat wave. But it wasn't fire that was felt. It stole heat instead of radiated it. It was something else, something much worse. It was something in the air itself; dry, prickly, a leaden pressure on the eardrums; a fat, dark worm that writhed in the gut. Fear. Percy felt the fear that thickened the night into a cold, congealed gelatin. It took just as much will power to not surrender to that soul-crushing despair as it did to run.

Now wasn't a time for fear. It was a time of running.

Sadly though, it was only a time of running.

The group of six had accidently made a formation of themselves as they kept running. Grover and Colby were at the front and center of the group. Percy was on the right side. Thalia was on the left. The two Hunters of Artemis were in the back, but this wasn't because they were the slowest.

As they ran, both Bianca and Zoë fired arrows from their quivers at the demonic rider. Despite them being Hunters of Artemis, most of these arrows failed to strike their foe. After all, you try loading, aiming, and firing an arrow while running in the opposite direction. Sadly though, the few arrows that did connect did nothing more than shatter. Similar to the arrows that Bianca used to distract the rider long enough to free Percy, they did nothing more than burst into flaming splinters while leaving the dark rider unaffected.

With what might have been a smug look rendered unreadable by the vast lack of muscles and flesh attached to its skull-like face, Topknot reached into his own quiver and pulled out a few arrows of his own. They were notched and fired so quickly that the Hunters didn't realize it until they slammed into the building sides they had just ran past. From that point onward the rider's arrowheads impaled everything within a fifty-foot radius. Trashcans clanged as they got wooden limbs. Telephone lines looked more like trees, now with branches. As they ran, the group got a look at the arrows. They were a full inch thick, craved from hellish black wood, tipped with forged pieces of jagged nightmares.

As the group ran, they all realized that it was only a matter of time until an arrow hit its mark. None of them wanted to find out what these arrows felt like.

Thalia was determined to do something about that. She thought back to their encounter with the redcaps earlier. The situation wasn't totally similar, but hopefully it would be similar enough. But this would be difficult. The devil in the details might be her undoing. She knew she couldn't stop running. Even lessening her pace might result in her unfathomable end. But she never tried to summon lightning while running away, or when she was running period. It took so much concentration and focus to call down lightning. And that wasn't the only problem. This storm impaling Austin with rain and bludgeoning it with softball sized hail wasn't of Zeus, it was from some dark and twisted alien will; an dark and twisted alien will that was actively fighting her, attempting to attack and destroy her. Thalia's insides started to burn for reasons aside from the strain upon her muscles.

Her stride slowed. She stood beside Zoë and Bianca. Then they pasted her. Against her will, Thalia drifted closer and closer to that damned thing, to that specter of the infernal pit, being forced to put more effort into focusing than running. That stink of brimstone was filling her nostrils, and wafting into her mouth. Her insides burned more harshly. Her will was strong, but she found doubts in herself cropping up like saplings in a recording with an accelerated play speed. What if she came back to human life only to end up—

The lightning flashed and struck! The stormy darkness transformed into searing white. It was fortunate that everyone was running in the opposite direction; otherwise they would have been briefly blinded. Thalia looked about the sight, unaffected by the brightness, and was content. Hopefully she had destroyed that foul specter as she had some redcaps.

She looked back at the oppressive bleached aura of the lingering strike with great hope.

Then her hopes turned to ash as she saw the dark rider moving through the blinding light unfazed. If the head-on lightning bolt did any damage or slowed him down in the slightest was impossible to tell. He had already been smoking and burning, anyway. With her great disheartenment clashing with the great relief of no longer being plugged into that awful storm, Thalia ran back to her previous place along the group's left hand side.

The group kept running. They darted through narrow alleyways, harshly angled side streets, and crammed corridors. They climbed up dumpsters and threw trashcans and whatever else they could to slow the rider down. None of that worked. The rider charged undaunted. Things looked bleak, but against all of that, there was a small sliver of hope.

The Wild Hunt had a time limit.

Percy remembered that Colby mentioned a witching hour, implying that this force could only exist on the mortal plain, and try to murder them, for less than a single hour.

That notion made the efforts to run for his life and very immortal soul less daunting for Percy. He continued forward, traveling along with everyone else through a corridor of a side street with buildings and the openings to other corridors on either side. A hot wind scorched his lungs. As he ran he surveyed the surrounding landscape for any new details.

The rain continued to fall, giving everything a vaguely blurry and murky aesthetic. Every new footstep birthed an ankle-high bloom of water, like miniature crystalline mushroom clouds. The demigod was too worried about staying alive to keep his clothes dry. The water was getting in his shoes, making his socks stick to his feet only to dethatch with the feeling of a removed suction cup. Lightning flashed off of the buildings and corridors, throwing vivid shadowy shapes upon the walls that seemed to move and writhe. The heavy pitter-patter of rain exploded on almost every surface, creating a monochrome orchestra that smothered all other sounds. Riptide casted a faint bronze glow in the darkness, flickering in his hand, standing out strikingly. There was another faint glinting out of the corner of Percy's eyes, in a side alleyway. There was a sharp _SHING_ sound.

Acting on instinct, Percy moved his head back and to the left as he kept running. The raindrops about to fall onto his head exploded and sizzled out of existence. The damp and cold air blazed as his skin felt like it was near the surface of the sun. Some hairs fell past his eyes. A new and gruesome visage manifested right next to him, with eyes like flames.

Another dark rider, this one wearing a horned helmet and wielding a sword with infernos dancing on the near molten steel, was at his side, keeping stride with the young demigod.

Still running, Percy realized that he had just barely dodged having his head cut off. Only a demigod's ADHD battle instincts for detecting the slightest hint of danger saved him. Otherwise, he would have lost his head.

He didn't have time to focus on that however. Those same battle reflexes revealed to him other new details of the situation. There was another rider from Hell on the group's other side, currently engaging Thalia in a fight between spear and shield against flaming mace. In addition to the rider they already knew of, there were another three riding alongside him. And there were other shapes running adjacent to the riders, their foul hellhounds.

Their hounds were half a calf's size. They were massive shaggy black dogs with jaws powerful enough to tear limbs clean off and teeth sharp enough to instantly rend flesh from bone. Their maws glistened, with liquids red and clear, with blood and tears. Both foul liquids hung from their slavering jaws and fell onto the ground burnt by their touch. Their hides emitted the pungent stink of brimstone. Their eyes burned like coals on a fire, burning bright enough to silhouette their otherwise impossibly dark yet massive skulls.

Somewhere, amid all of the frantic moments with his sword to defect incoming strikes while not breaking his stride, Percy realized that the Wild Hunt was starting to trap them. They were surrounded on three sides; only the path forward was devoid of dark forces. They were flaking them, effortlessly keeping stride. The legs of their steeds were like pistons. Though they were goats, their legs pounded with the tireless confidence of tigers.

But Percy couldn't think of that. He could afford to think of nothing save the next strike, the next blow that needed to be blocked. Riptide and the molten blade crashed into each other again and again, resulting in a sword duel mid-run. Every new collision produced a screeching clang that tore the ears, sounding like cries from suffering souls. Dozens upon dozens of times the swords slammed into each other, with no success on either side, at least not directly. Percy parried and blocked with surprising skill in this spur of the moment sword duel. It was only thinks to his ADHD battle instincts and pure dumb luck that Percy was still kicking. But, as the demigod soon realized, he was starting to loss a war of attrition. It would only be a matter of time until exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Percy was nudging the pain barrier. The dark rider didn't seem to be slowing down. The chase had moved into an open section of street, freed from narrow alleyways.

He tried to not think about that. He just focused on the movements of the foe's sword. Nothing else mattered. And that mindset kept him alive. But there was a downside.

When you are focusing so much on one single thing, you become blind to anything else.

Percy didn't realize this until the dark rider kicked him mid-duel from his ghastly goat. He stumbled, knowing that he couldn't afford to stop running. If he did, not only would he die, but also he would knock everyone else down and condemn them to the same fate. His shoes started to slip on the rain-slicked pavement. His arms pin wheeled around. If it hadn't been such a harrowing situation, he might have dreaded how silly he looked.

He frantically searched the barren street as he tumbled on, looking for anything to help. Percy spotted his salvation, in a familiar source, a fire hydrant, behind the Wild Hunt rider. He focused on it, channeling his power through the man-made device. It exploded. The water sprayed forth. Once again, Percy focused his power on the artificial geyser. It bent to his whim, snaking around the rider and rushing towards his left as he tumbled that way. Mid-run, Percy forced the traveling water to push against him, keeping him upright.

The son of Poseidon found his footing stable. He smiled at the disaster he managed to avoid. Then, he had a thought, why not try to make another kind of disaster, for them?

He took the water that still lingered around him, and raised it above everyone's heads. With a forceful movement of his hands in either direction, he spilt the liquid into two sections, which then blasted into the two riders at the group's sides, and their hellhounds. All of the infernal parties were forced behind the group, towards the others giving chase.

And that made Percy feel very good. He had actually struck against these foul creatures! For the first time since coming to Austin, he felt good, confident, like everything would be fine. The son of Poseidon kept running forward, while looking back those behind him.

His gaze went back to his front, and then his heart instantly sank. Percy stopped running.

Everyone else followed, and felt a wave of despair ripple through their collective minds. None of them could put what was before them into words, save one, who said one word.

The word passed quietly through Colby's lips like air leaking out of a balloon. "Shit."

They were not alone. Five more riders were perched atop their flickering midnight steeds to their front, leaning casually forward, with each goat's fur ruffling in the wind.

The truth became apparent to everyone. It was staring them in the face with countenances that had skull-like features. They never had a chance. Nothing could have been done to avoid this. The Wild Hunt had been toying with them the whole time, just finding amusement in the thrill of the hunt; in the illusion of salvation they granted their prey.

As they approached, the fear slowly slid out of Colby's gaze, replaced by a cold emptiness. His eyes were now as numb as a corpse's. "Well. That's that, I guess."

The group from Camp Half-Blood balked at the indifference on display. How could he give up now!? No, that wasn't the way of demigods; demigods fight even against hopeless odds. And though no one wanted to admit it, things truly did look hopeless.

More riders slowly trotted up behind them, their goats bleating, grunting against their reins, the goats wanting little more than to stomp these creatures under-hoof. There were riders and goats to their front, riders and goats to their back. There were eleven of the eldritch abominations conceived by the bleakest womb. And on both sizes their came hellhounds, flanking them. They were even more horrible up-close, drooling, snarling, muscular piles of awfulness—beset with fangs and fur matted with blood and ichor. The water that had sprayed them was nonexistent, likely turned to mist by their hellish heat.

Riptide weighed heavy in Percy's hands, the handle slick with sweat. He was exhausted. Though the others did there best to hide, he could tell everyone was in same boat as him. Bianca and Zoë readied the few arrows they had left. Thalia's spear tip hovered just over the ground; she likely didn't have the strength to raise it any higher unless absolutely needed. Grover was breathing too rapidly to get any good use out of his magic pipes.

"So," Bianca said, "does anyone have any ideas?"

"We could try outflanking them?" suggested Percy.

Not taking her eyes off of their foes in front, Thalia released a quick, desperate chuckle. "Hardly a time for humor, Seaweed Brain." She said, lightheartedly despite her fear.

Percy chuckled too, not even feeling mad at the unwanted nickname. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Pinecone Face."

"What else is new," the Daughter of Zeus retorted, "I'm always right."

Everyone present from Camp Half-Blood laughed at that, despite it not even being that funny. Colby didn't laugh. His expression remained unchanged, his eyes still corpse-like.

' _This is it,'_ Percy thought, _'This is how it all ends.'_ He steeled himself against his fears. Only his fear for Annabeth managed to pierce his mental defenses.

The night was tense and silent. Even the thunder and rain seemed to mute themselves. Everyone's skin tightened on reflex, to receive the love-bites of burning arrow and blade.

Topknot raised his axe; still dripping blood onto the souls ensnarled by his fiery net, and readied his goat to charge.

Then, a sound more horrible than any those present had ever heard roared through the air!

It was a shrill shriek in some pained language spoken only in the deepest, darkest pits of Hell. The trill formed a word that came out in a deathly warble sounding eerily like a chorus played backward. "NOOOOOOO!" The new voice bellowed and shrieked. The goats reacted with their own shrieks. The riders all stood up as rigidly as possible, scared.

The Wild Hunt members who had chased the group of living to this spot parted, with the hellhounds bowing their heads and whimpering, revealing a new rider, the Hunt Master.

Lightning flashed behind the twelfth member of the Wild Hunt, turning it into abstract shadow against unnaturally brilliant white. Then the blinding light faded away, and instantly afterwards, everyone among the living had wished to be blinded yet again. None of those present, not even Colby with his globe traveling adventures, had seen so ghastly and vile a manifestation of the most feared and repressed imaginings of the human race.

The Hunt Master was an appalling sight to say the least. It was the rotten, bubbling corpse of a woman given awful, unnatural life. She was a gaunt, cadaverous nightmare with sores oozing ochre pus emitting beastly snarls. The rain that fell upon her form vanished amid a symphony of unsettling sizzles and crackles against Hell's lingering heat, transforming into a thick ghostly vapor that bathed this monomaniac commander in a steam of blackest ethers that reeked of funeral pyres. There was barely any hair left on her head, which was a complex, haphazard patchwork of fresh wound, scab, and exposed skull and brain. Her eyes were sockets empty of eyes, replaced by the glowing embers of Hell itself. It was a fire that glowed brighter than any earthly flame ever had. But even amid that brightness, there was a darkness swirling alongside the shimmering, billowing threads of crimson and amber that cooked the lingering skin near. The few teeth left were jagged, clinging to pus-drenched gums. A few scraps of flayed, parchment-like skin clung desperately to her jowls and ribcage. A few chunks of desiccated muscles refused to break away from the bone. Her legs and hands were shriveled, decaying masses. Her neck bend at a harsh, unnatural angle, with rope marks embedded in what flesh remained. Everything around her screamed and wailed and burned as she stood their glaring.

Evil. That was what Percy thought she looked like, thought what she was. The very picture of evil. More than Hades or Ares, more than Luke…even more than Kronos.

The Hunt Master's steed slowly trotted towards the living, with the confident gait of victory. The goat's hooves left flaming scorch marks the rain did not extinguish. The air itself became suffocated by the stench of sulfur and the texture of ash. The near tangible aura of despair and the psychic wailing of the damned reached its apex. Percy felt like his head might explode for real as the leader of the Wild Hunt stopped about three feet from them. Her flaming gaze was cold and unrelenting she stared at the group of heroes.

It was almost unbearable to be this close to something infused with Hell itself. The smell was unreal, utterly inconceivable. It was the scent of carnage itself embodied, acrid and raw—a scent you could chew. But that wasn't the worst part. Not even the crippling aura of tangible despair was the worst part. It was the heat, a heat that was alive. It smothered the group of six with a breathless body, raping their skin with a needle-barbed tongue.

The group had expected any number of horrible things to happen at this moment. But nothing did. The Hunt Master just stood there, looking at them as if they were paintings. None of them could have known why this was. Maybe she wanted to know the faces of those she would kill and damn? Maybe she had forgotten what being human, being alive, could look like? What she trying to bring some small hope to Hell, or was she committing their faces to memory to find them and torture them herself down there?

Everyone else, rider and living, was getting anxious, losing patience. One of the riders, Topknot, allowed his goat to trot a few steps forward. With a violent snap that turned her head at a 145-degree angle in a harsh yet fluid motion, the Hunt Master looked behind her and unleashed a growl uttered by beings whose names were purposefully forgotten. The more imposing specter backed away, retracting his goat's steps with a bowed head.

"No!" The Hunt Master shouted, her anger whipping up a hot, searing wind that rustled the trees nearby, whipped the building walls with jagged lines of intense heat, and kicked up a large cloud of dust. "You shall not take them! They have roles yet to play!" she commanded to her impatient compatriots. The goat she rode was having a hard time keeping itself in check. With a jerk of the reins and a firm hand on its horns, the Wild Hunt's Leader dug spiked barbs into the fiend, managing to stay it a bit longer.

The leader of Hell's hunting party then turned her gaze to those among the living, with a jerking motion so fast that the loud creaks and cracks of a broken neck roared like lions. The flaming gaze of that eyeless stare was a culmination of the horrible feelings conjured by the Wild Hunt this whole time distilled into a single, potent metaphysical atom bomb. "Do not get too comfortable! Your souls shall still rot forever in the infernal pit!" she growled bitterly. Her stare fixated on one in particular, on Colby, before adding, "We will meet again. Make no mistake, we will meet again." The wind itself howled the vowels.

The previous indifferent stare of Colby had been traded out for one of unutterable terror.

In an instant, the entire Wild Hunt erupted into flames. It started at the hooves of their mounts, disintegrating into ash, like the end of a lit cigarette. The immolation swept up the legs of the Wild Hunt's goats and dogs, before reaching their damned masters. In a fraction of a second, every member of the Wild Hunt was consumed, exploding into clouds of gray-black cinders. Those trapped in the nets vanished in sullen heaps of soot.

Percy's gaze guided him towards Topknot, and the two innocent souls trapped in his net. Their translucent faces like fog looked at Percy, with eyes glistening like pearls, with tears. They projected all of their dashed hopes and broken dreams in a single expression. There wasn't even any anger at the demigod for not saving them, only undulated despair.

It was too much. Percy was on the cusp of crying like a little child at seeing that. The fact they didn't seem to blame him for his failure almost made the demigod feel worse. Somehow, after all of the horrible things that had been compacted into such a short time, this moment would be the worst moment that Percy Jackson had ever experienced.

A fierce wind kicked up, blowing each rider and their steed away like a billows, incinerating them whole and then carrying off their ashes along the winds into the unholy storm made by powers other than Zeus'. Within two breaths, they were gone, only a faint odor of sulfur suggested their presence. To the Hunt Master, the witching hour was up.

With that, Hell left Austin, Texas. The air no longer reeked of brimstone. The wailing of the suffering already committed and yet to come was silenced, dragged underground. Gone too were the dark clouds tattooed with lightning that had obscured the silvery moon, the storm like flaming dragon's breath had been replaced with bright blue hues. The apocalyptic roar of thunder and the auditory bombardment of rain and ice fell on deaf ears. For such a massive event, there was little evidence. There was only the scattered remains of the occasional trashcan, small holes in walls and telephone poles from arrows that had vanished, and a few of the smoldering hoof prints from their steeds. Other than that, though, you never could have guessed that Hell had been on the Earth.

The city streets were empty, quiet, abandoned even by the dead.

Everyone stood there, unable to do anything after what had just taken place.

Unthinkingly, attempting to break the macabre awkwardness of what just happened, and ignore the sadness manifesting within him, Percy said, "Well…I guess that was luck—"

Before Percy could finish that, he felt a pair of powerful vices grasp his collar and lift him slightly into the air. It took him a moment to understand that they were a pair of hands. Before he could fully register the change, he stared into Colby's eyes. They gave the Wild Hunt's flaming stares a run for their money. They were so absolutely vivid; an entire galaxy's luminous composition was flaring within those wet windows into the soul. And if they were windows, then Colby's soul was a black fire of pure, mathematical fury.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Colby shouted right in Percy's face, the odor of alcohol washed over the younger man's face. "Don't have the fucking gall to say 'lucky', kid! You have no idea what just happened, don't you!?"

Before this, Colby had been mostly low-key and reserved, occasional drunken rant aside. But now, Colby was a volcano, erupting with a passion that left Percy utterly stunned.

"Those people that they took, they ain't just dead. They are dead and fucking damned! The Wild Hunt has dragged them into fucking Hell, literally, to suffer for all goddamn eternity!" Colby shouted, his voice wavering and cracking every few words. "And that could have been us too! We could have stayed hidden and not risk enteral damnation. But you, being the naïve little shit-head that you are, tried to be a fucking hero! You don't know how this shit works! Some things can't be changed, can't be _**helped or fixed**_!"

With a particularly harsh hiss at the last few words, Colby shoved Percy away. The son of Poseidon just stood there, not sure what to say to any of that. Even with that, he could tell that there was something personal about those words, something hinting at hidden pain.

"Hey! Back off, Carrot Top!" Thalia barked. "Percy did the right thing! What was he supposed to do, let them take those people away!?"

Colby glared at the daughter of Zeus, matching her intense gaze. "Did it make any difference? Did us risking our necks save them? Did they not disappear into ash?"

"Well maybe we could have if thou helped us, o great and mighty wizard?" Zoë mocked sarcastically.

The cold stare Colby fired at the Huntress was bone chilling. His teeth clenched for ten seconds before he spoke with repressed rage. "It wouldn't have done any good. There is no ward or protection against the Wild Hunt. It must simply run its course. The best you can do against it is hide in a corner, close your eyes, and hope you aren't damned."

"That's—that's not fair!" Thalia snapped.

Colby uttered a sardonic chuckle. "And who ever said life was fair? Surely as demigods you all already have seen proof of that, that we are just amusements to higher forces?"

None spoke at that.

"Thought so," the wizard said, jeeringly. Then his tone became faintly lighter, but more somber. "I guess we should be thankful for surviving, but…I'm unsure."

"W—why?" asked Percy.

"What we just saw isn't only the road to damnation," Colby said, his face looking frightened yet again. "The Wild Hunt is also a beastly warning of a calamity to come. They are the seers and omens of unfortunate futures. Just hearing, let alone seeing, the Wild Hunt means that we all will be experiencing disasters firsthand very soon."

Despite the heat that had been once so overwhelming, everyone felt absolutely numb. That silenced any lingering resolve or debates within the more hotheaded members of the group. Their hot tongues had been cooled, frozen. Thalia and Zoë looked at each other.

"Let's head back to my place," Colby said, with a worn out tone. "The Wild Hunt might be gone, but I'd still not want you kids in Austin by yourselves. Just give me a moment."

Percy marveled at Colby once again. Despite his tempter mere moments ago, he was still considered about their safety. The demigod had never met a mortal as inscrutable as him.

The wizard didn't notice. For once he wasn't focusing on every spot around him for possible dangers. Instead, his gaze reminded focused on one spot only, with burn marks.

Colby looked off into the distance and said a silent prayer for those who had been taken, hoping quietly that they wouldn't suffer so terribly in Hell. Then he walked away slowly.

* * *

 **And that was the latest chapter of this story! As always, I hope you all liked it!**

 **A few closing thoughts about this chapter. One of my biggest inspirations for this chapter was** _ **Samurai Jack**_ **, with its great action sequences that always emphasized motion, particularly the episode "Jack vs. the Zombies." It was quite difficult to write an action sequence that had the characters always running nonstop. Hopefully I did it well enough.**

 **So, how do you think I handled everyone's action in this chapter make sense, in reference to both how the characters tried to fight the Wild Hunt and their reactions to when they realized that all hope was lost…until salvation came from a unlikely source. Please tell me this for as many characters as you can, okay?**

 **Also, just as a quick word, their will only be one more chapter before we finally get to enter the true meat of the story. I'm sorry for the long wait but I feel like all of this important information about Colby and his world established for later.**

 **I hope to get the next chapter uploaded sooner but I can't make any promises.**

 **Either way, until next time, please read, review, favor, follow, and spread the word!**


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